All Good Things
by littlebatgirl
Summary: Sequel to 'The Girl in Question'. "You cant hide your true nature forever, you cannot deny who you really are and all good things have to come to an end," The Joker is back and Amelia risk everything to save Jack's soul, even if it means loosing hers.
1. Sea of Cards

**A/N Hello, for those of you who have not read any of my work before this is a sequel to 'The Girl in Question', which is part of a trilogy. It may help the story if you read the first two, but if you decide not to then I hope you still enjoy this! For those who have already read the first two, just to point out a couple of things, this is the last story, so I'm hoping it will be a lot darker than the first two. Not to get all 'Lost' on you, but a couple of the chapters will be like flashbacks, so that we can find out what Amelia and Jack got up to on their travels and how they got to this point. I really hope you all like it and it would be nice to hear your thoughts! xxx**

**I do not own any D.C Characters, Just Amelia.**

**Sea of Cards**

When Amelia woke up, she could feel the ground moving beneath her body. The sky above her was black and threatening rain, cold water like ice splashed onto her bare feet making her wince. She sat up, sickness lurching up inside her, her hands clinging to the sides of the bright yellow life raft. The evening dress she had slipped on, only it seemed moments ago, clung like skin to her damp body, her pale feet blue with cold.

Her hand rushed to her mouth and unable to prevent it, she flung her torso over the side of the boat and vomited the dark water below, swimming before her eyes.

Her mind whirring she fell back inside the lonely raft, the terror of her situation engulfing her and she began to sob wildly, her breathing erratic and shallow.

Where the hell was Jack?

She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to think but everything was so black before her eyes. She remembered their stateroom. She remembered fastening her earrings before the mirror, her reflection beaming back at her. Her cheeks were pink, a healthy glow radiating from her body. She remembered Jack appearing in the mirror behind her….

Amelia's eyes flew open and she sat up, trying to ignoring the constant bobbing of the raft on the open water, that nauseating feeling creeping up her throat making her wanting to vomit again.

His face in the mirror…it had been the last thing she'd seen.

His painted face. It had been a whole year since she'd seen that sight. His twisted smile, that look in his black eyes. He hadn't looked at her that way for a long time.

Amelia peered over the top of the raft, her eyes roaming the black open water swelling around her. The sky above cracked in two, an electric bolt shooting through the darkness and she gasped, huddling into the corner. Rain from above began to hammer her body and she moaned, pulling her knees up to her chest for comfort.

Her terror got the better of her and she sobbed into the wet fabric of her dress, questions whirling around her head.

What had happened to the ship? Where was she? Where were the other passengers?

Where _was _Jack?

She cried until she couldn't see straight and waited. The night seemed to stretch into eternity and it felt like the raft was being lifted up by unseen hands and forced through the water with the strength of a tornado. Waves tore at the flimsy vessel, drenching her through. Amelia gripped the inside of the raft, her body exhausted but her fear kept her awake, clinging on to the boat for dear life.

Finally the first light of morning came and with it came the queasy feeling that Amelia had become all too familiar with during the night. With what little strength she possessed, she lifted her body and retched over the side of the boat, nothing but clear liquid from lack of food. She stared down at the dark water and saw the card floating there, almost as if it were waiting for her.

It was a Joker card. Tentatively she plunged her hand into the freezing water and pulled it out. Then she sat up and looked around her.

There were cards all around her. Hundreds of them, floating, bobbing on the gentle waves, their wicked grins leering up at her as if they were laughing at her.

_You let your guard down; you let him in, now look what he did to you…._

"No," Amelia said aloud, her voice lost and empty on the open water. She scurried around the raft, looking over the sides of the boat for any sign that she might not be the only one left alive.

There was nothing, nothing except the raft, her lonely voice and the laughing cards.

She covered her eyes. "Jack…why?" she moaned.

Her thoughts clearer than the previous night, she tried desperately to think what had happened.

She remembered putting on the evening dress, the one he had bought for her in Prague. She remembered him fastening the necklace around her throat, his fingers lingering there gently. She had chosen that moment.

"_I've got something to tell you…."_

Amelia fell back against the side of the raft, wondering how she would ever get out of this. She was completely and utterly alone, her hand touching the gentle swell of her stomach she swallowed back her tears.

She had thought at first he'd seemed pleased, but then nearly a whole year together and she still couldn't read his expressions.

He had disappeared for an hour leaving her to sit there and worry, until finally she had decided to carry on getting ready for dinner.

Then he had appeared in the mirror behind her.

"_Now I have something to tell you…." he'd said._

Without thinking Amelia let her hand stray to the back of her head and felt the painful swelling there, dried blood peeling away in her fingers, matted into her blonde hair. Last night, too busy on keeping inside the raft she hadn't noticed the pain there.

Her face grey, she remembered what he had said and the familiar laugh in his voice.

"_I think you've forgotten all about me. I think everyone has forgotten about me…and I'm not sure I like that. You can't deny what you are forever ballerina and I'm afraid…all good things come to an end,"_

Amelia bit down on her lip, remembering seeing the gun too late. He'd hit her with it and she'd slipped into darkness. She brought her knees up protectively to her chest, hugging them to her and leaned her head on her arms, as if cradling the little life that was growing inside her.

How could he do this to her?

"_I've got something to tell you Jack…I'm having a baby…"_

She could hear the choked laughter of the Jokers floating nearby.

That'll teach you, silly girl. That'll teach you for running away, for abandoning your friends, for trusting a clown, for falling in love…

Amelia screamed into the emptiness of the ocean surrounding her, preying that somewhere, someone would hear her.

////

THE GOTHAM TRIBUNE

**JOKER CONNECTED TO SUNKEN CRUISE LINER?**

**Yesterday more wrecked of the doomed Liner 'The Galaxy' was discovered washed up on a beach off the coast of Germany. A local walking his dog along the popular tourist beach, was shocked to discover clothing, suitcases and pieces of broken up furniture that is believed to come from the cruise liner. Also more unusually, washed all along the shore were hundreds of playing cards, all displaying the picture of the 'Joker', prompting rumours that the ship disaster is somehow linked to the homicidal criminal 'The Joker', a man who plagued Gotham over two years ago. Gothamites will remember how he held two ferries hostage, threatening to blow them up only a few years ago. The Joker escaped Arkham Asylum and has not been seen or heard from for over a year. Is this a warning that he will soon be returning to our shores?**

**German Police are still investigating the mysterious sinking, that claimed the lives of over two thousand passengers. They have not confirmed that the Joker may somehow be involved but Gotham will hold its breath, waiting for news.**

**Clara Olsen**

**////**

A Hospital in Belgium

Eight days later

Bruce's footsteps on the polished floor echoed around him as he followed the young nurse down the hallway. His heart was thundering in his chest, his facial expression tight with worry.

It had been too much to hope for and he braced himself for another bitter disappointment. He thought back over the last eight days, since receiving word of the sinking, remembering the moment that Alfred had come to find him in the cave, his face white with shock.

Over the past year, Bruce had never really lost sight of Amelia. The fact that she had been with _him_, appalled him, made him almost venomous with rage that he managed to keep in check. But he knew that on some level, Amelia had to get this out of her system. She had to find out on her own that she was wrong about Jack Napier, but Bruce wasn't about to abandon her. He'd had various contacts keep a watch on them, what hotels they turned up in, what restaurants they ate at.

The man was evil, dangerous and unpredictable and now he had proven it solidly by blowing up the luxury liner that they had been staying on, its carcass lodged somewhere on the bottom on the Baltic Sea, along with nearly two thousand poor souls dragged down with it.

The thought of Amelia disappearing into the darkness along with it, sickened him.

Finally they reached the ward and the nurse nodded to the bed in the far corner by the window. Bruce swallowed as he approached the bed, his eyes fastening on the young woman laying there, her eyes closed against the sunlight.

A sob caught in his throat, relief washing over him but managed to prevent himself from running to the bed and taking her up in his arms.

She was blonde again, he noticed, her soft yellow hair spilling over the pillow and still as beautiful as she ever was, her dark lashes fluttering against her cheeks as she began to stir, almost sensing a presence by the bed.

When she opened her eyes and looked at him, he was shocked at the grey marks beneath them, her skin was pure white but then as the nurse had informed him, she had nearly perished from hypothermia, her body half starved, half frozen to death when a fishing trawler had discovered the small craft drifting off the coast of Amsterdam.

"Bruce," Amelia's voice choked stretching out her hand towards him, "Is that really you?"

Unable to stop himself any longer he was at her side and wrapped his arms around her tiny form. She sobbed and pressed her face into his sweater, the sight of him almost too much to take in. This was the meeting that she had been dreading for the last year, having to face Bruce again, after all she'd done to him, how much she'd hurt him, the thoughts had plagued her most nights.

"I'm so sorry," she wailed taking his handsome face in her hands, "I'm so sorry,"

He smiled, sniffing back emotional tears and kissed her cold face.

"We don't need to talk about that right now," he tried to hush her but she only gripped his wrists tighter.

"No, we do. I've been a monster to you Bruce. I lost my head; I fell for him and now look at what's happened! All those….poor people…"

She burst into tears and Bruce cradled her against him. He didn't care about the past. Unbelievably he didn't want to know about her year with the Joker. He didn't want to think about them together, him touching her, her laughing with him, because he knew that if he did then he could loose control.

He would never kill the Joker, because Bruce believed that the man, on some level could be saved. Amelia had fallen for that charm; he had played on her emotions and had somehow breached her defences.

He couldn't really hate her for that.

Finally Amelia looked back up at him. "Help me sit," she said and Bruce pulled her into an upright position, fluffing the pillow beneath her head.

He pulled up a chair and took her hand, meeting her steady gaze.

"Can you remember anything that happened?" he asked, "The nurse said that you were half frozen to death!"

Amelia sighed deeply. "I remember talking to him in our cabin before it happened. I don't remember the explosion, just waking up in the raft,"

"How did you get in the raft?" Bruce asked, his thumb gently caressing the back of her hand. He noticed that she hadn't pulled away.

Amelia shrugged. "In the cabin…he said that he couldn't deny who he was any longer…" her eyes filled up with hurt tears again and Bruce forced away a pang of jealousy. The fact that the Joker could reduce a woman like Amelia West to tears made him seethe.

"Then he hit me and I must have passed out, then, nothing," she hastily wiped her eyes, noticing the pained expression on Bruce's face.

How could she ever begin to explain to Bruce that up until eight days ago, this last year had been one of the most giddy, delirious and amazing years of her entire life? She had been a contented, blissfully happy woman in love, cradling the secret that she was going to have his baby and it had literally been ripped out from under her feet.

She had been so wrong, he didn't love her. It was her worst nightmare and she had an awful, sickening feeling that this had all been a game from the beginning.

"So you think that he put you in the raft?" Bruce's voice broke her thoughts, "Why would he save you and murder thousands?"

"I don't know," she was tired now, "But we know what he's capable of…at least I do now,"

Bruce squeezed her hand. Her agony was written across her face, the torment she felt inside burned into her blue eyes.

Bruce wondered if he could ever make her happy, like Jack had.

"I'm sorry," he whispered and she laughed sadly.

"You're sorry? Bruce I've put you through hell!"

"I'm sorry that you had to go through this…but then maybe it was necessary. Now you know what he really is. Is there anything that happened between you that might have provoked this? Did he seem especially twitchy or edgy? Did he say anything before that night?"

Amelia shook her head. "No, he was normal…about as normal as he gets,"

Bruce narrowed his eyes. "But it just doesn't add up. You've been away together for a year, you're on a luxury boat, romantic you would assume…then he just decides to blow it up? Think Amelia, did anything happen that you can remember that might have tipped him over the edge?"

Amelia bit her lip, the inevitable piece of news that she'd been hiding, suddenly hurtling towards her at full pelt.

"I don't know how to say this…" she began, meeting his gentle eyes, knowing how much she'd already hurt him, "I'm pregnant Bruce….I told him the night he blew up the boat,"

Bruce's dark eyes widened and he swallowed. "Well that explains a few things," he muttered, "Your pregnant…well…God Amelia…"

Amelia covered her eyes. "You hate me don't you?"

Bruce pulled her hands away from her face, a smile curling on his mouth. "No, I really don't,"

"But everything I have done…." She wailed and he shook her hands, forcing her to look at him.

"Everything you have done has brought us here," he said firmly, "It was meant to be this way and now it makes what I have to do all the more clear,"

Amelia looked at him, a puzzled expression on her face.

"What do _you _have to do?" she asked, puzzled at the smile on his face.

"I have to marry you,"

Amelia choked out a laugh. "_Marry me_?" she spluttered, "Are you serious?"

"Deadly," he smiled, "I want to marry you Amelia and not because your having a baby. When I saw you asleep a few minutes ago I knew it then. I love you and I want to protect you for the rest of my life,"

Amelia's eyes welled up again. "But the baby, you would be its father?"

Bruce leaned closer, his face so soft, so gentle and Amelia swallowed. He pressed a kiss against her forehead, she closed her eyes.

"As far as I'm concerned, the baby is mine. You are mine, forever. If you'll have me?"

She opened her eyes and stared at him. She was so confused.

"There's so much to think about…" she whispered but Bruce shook his head.

"Actually there isn't," he said standing up, "All you have to do is say yes,"

She watched him peel his coat off the back off the chair. "You're going?"

He nodded. "Your exhausted and you need to think, but I'll be back tomorrow and then I hope you may have an answer for me,"

Her eyes followed him to the door; a sudden panic that he was leaving crept into her throat. She didn't want him to go! He was the only man who she ever had felt truly safe with.

"Bruce wait!" she called after him and he turned to her, "You could just forget this whole year ever happened? You're telling me that when you look at the child you won't see him? That you won't end up resenting us?"

His face grave, Bruce returned to her bedside, looking down at her sadly.

"Amelia I think you know me well enough by now to realise that above all else in this world, I just want to protect you. I may not be the man who makes your stomach somersault when he kisses you or that you dream about when you're apart. I'm probably not the man who makes you laugh so hard you cry. But I am the man who will always keep you safe, who'll watch over you and put you and your baby before everyone else. I'm the better man,"

His words hung in the air even after he'd left the room. She lay back against the pillow, her mind whirring.

"_I'm the better man…"_

Amelia turned over in bed and closed her eyes, willing sleep to reach her. She gripped the starchy hospital sheets tighter with her fists.

A moment of weakness was all it would take to say yes. Could she forget all that had passed? Could she forget Jack, even though it was clear that he had forgotten about her? Memories of being stuck in the life raft floated back to her, being swung violently from side to side, her body wracked with cold and terror. She had thought that she was going to die that night, and the man she loved had put her there.

She just wanted to be safe. And now she had a baby to protect.

Amelia touched the swell of her stomach.

"Oh Jack…" she sobbed into the pillow.

Above all things now, she just wanted to be safe.

//////

GOTHAM TRIBUNE

**PLAYBOY MILLIONAIRE WEDS GOTHAM'S PRINCESS **

**It was reported that billionaire Bruce Wayne, of Wayne Enterprises has married Gotham's favourite socialite Amelia West in a private ceremony at a church in Cortona, Italy. The pair have been linked in an on again, off again relationship for the past three years, finally putting an end to the rumours. The ceremony was held in the peaceful mountain village in Tuscany, with only two witnesses.**

**So now we'll see the quieter side to the former playboy, no more wild nights and long parties at the famous Wayne Manor. At the Gotham Tribune we want to wish the pair every happiness.**

**Carla Olsen**

**//////**

**Paris**

A moment of weakness, the Joker mused, folding the newspaper back inside his overcoat. News of the infamous billionaire's secret wedding had reached European shores.

A moment of weakness was all it took to turn a ballerina into a princess. A spark of anger was all it took to turn a little boy into a painted freak. A moment of weakness was all that was required to transform a man in love to a scarred, insane clown, consumed by desperation.

_Had to get off that boat, had to run away. Fire and water. Fire and water makes it all good again. Makes everything clean, a blank canvas to begin again._

_I have to begin again._

He took the stairs to his hotel room, not wanting to be caught in an elevator. Fumbling for his keys in his pocket he unlocked the stiff door, a burning need in his throat. He headed to the bathroom and stared at the misshaped reflection there in the mirror.

_Don't think about her face. Don't think about it. She's gone now, all gone, you're free._

His hands itched and he giggled taking up the tubes of face paint on the bathroom sink. Beginning with white, he smeared the paint over his skin, leaving sticky finger marks down his neck. The black was then rubbed carefully around his eyes, making sure that he went right up to the lashes. He rubbed the remains of the black ink on a white hotel towel, ignoring the note written in French from the housekeeper that had been left by the sink. He imagined that it said something about the amount of towels he'd ruined in this little Parisian Hotel. He thought that it must take a lot of detergent to get blood and paint out of laundry.

Finally to his crooked smile. He squeezed out the scarlet liquid onto his fingertips and trailed it over his lips.

_Red lipstick. Red lips on his. Verona, Italy. She was wearing red lipstick and a black dress._

_Stop, stop, stop!!_

He ran his hands through his greasy, dull blonde hair, suddenly consumed with the need to yank it out by the roots. Pain was good; at least he could feel that.

Slowing his breathing, he straightened his tie. He looked good. Like his old self.

Leaving the bathroom he paced about the bedroom, surveying the chaos that he had created the night before. Last night he had robbed a small jewellery store in the Môn mart district of Paris and he knew it would not be long before the police caught up with him. His helpers, two young French men were quickly disposed of, their lifeless bodies littering the floor of the hotel room, the blood now dry and sticky on the carpet. He hadn't realised that he would miss this life so much. He had missed the kill.

She had stopped all that. A year spent living like a caged animal, trying to suppress his nature, all for her, all for her smile.

He squeezed his eyes shut. He would have to stop thinking about her sooner or later. But it was hard not to remember her, especially as he could still smell her perfume on some of his clothes. He tried not to remember her face, smiling up at him in the mirror.

"_I've got something to tell you_…"

The Joker shook his head, humming tunelessly to himself.

_No, no. Its over, she's gone for now. I had to do it. I had to prove that I'm still me. I don't belong to anyone._

It was time to move on. It was time to forget Amelia West and all that she had meant to him.

Smiling to himself he kicked over one of the men, that leering grin cut into the younger man's face, staring up at him with dead eyes.

He would give Europe a try; make a name for himself here. Let the waters calm a little before making his move.

The Joker was back and he would wait for his moment. Then he would show Gotham and Amelia West what he was really made of.


	2. A New Face

**A/N Hi and thanks for all the reviews, you guys are great as always!! Xxx**

**A New Face**

Commissioner Gordon stared down at the empty glass case, his brows knitted into a frown. Emmanuel's, Gotham's finest and most expensive Jewellers was running alive with Police, the whole place lit up from floor to ceiling.

Gordon looked over his shoulder as one of his officers approached him from behind.

"We found the point of entry, Sir…but it's like the last three, barely detectable," the younger, red haired man spoke quickly and Gordon let out a deep sigh.

"But this is Emmanuel's," Gordon muttered, "You can't just break into this place, it's like a fortress!"

He was talking to himself more than anything. He found he did that a lot these days. He had been in the middle of an anniversary dinner with his wife Barbra when he had received the call, and she had not been best pleased.

The younger officer was called away and Gordon shoved his hands in his pockets.

Emmanuel's was more like a museum of fine art than a Jewellers and the place had a waiting list of a minimum of two years before you could even view the pieces.

It housed pieces of Jewellery that belonged to royalty, celebrities and billionaires, not to mention a collection of the most valuable diamonds in the world. It was a Millionaire's sweet shop and was supposedly one of the safest Jewellers in Gotham, due to its high tech security system, which apparently tonight had been breached.

Gordon wandered around the brightly lit hallway, watching his officers combing over every cabinet for prints, but only one piece of jewellery had been stolen this evening and that was what was confusing him, it was a deliberate theft.

They knew what they wanted.

The younger, red haired man once more approached and Gordon looked up, pushing his glasses back up his nose.

"Yes, Davis," he said, almost knowing what the other man was about to say.

"We found the calling card Sir….its the same as the last three,"

Gordon had never doubted that it would be anyone else.

"I'll be in the back office making a few calls…has Truman Emmanuel been notified?" he said.

"I don't think so, Sir," Davis shook his head.

"Then I'll make the call…not a nice one to get at eleven at night," he muttered, once again shoving his hands in his coat pockets and strolling off towards the back offices.

Gordon closed the door behind him and took a seat at one of the desks, reaching for the telephone. But before he could dial, a figure appeared before him and he jolted in shock. Gordon looked up at the man encased in black before him, giving a short, relieved laugh. He still could never get used to Batman's random appearances.

"Cant you make some sort of noise before you jump out at me in the dark?" Gordon gave him a thin smile, "One day you may just succeed in giving me a heart attack,"

As always, his unusual accomplice remained silent, his breathing slow in the darkness of the office.

"Maybe you should learn to switch lights on?" Batman said in his distinctive, gravely tone.

"I take it you're here because of the robbery?" Gordon looked cagily over his shoulder, making sure none of his officers were nearby. Batman was still considered a vigilante in this city, no matter what good he did.

"It's very unexpected," Batman said, "This is the last place I would expect someone to rob. This obviously isn't the work of a small time thief like we first suspected. This person knows what they're doing,"

Gordon swallowed. "The fact that during the first three they managed to avoid security cameras was a miracle…I cant see how they could do that in here though, there must have been _something _caught on camera. My officers are looking through it now,"

"No this one is different," Batman said in a low voice, almost distant, "This time the thief wants us to see their face. This was a bit of fun to them, a challenge and now they want us to see who they are. They want exposure,"

Gordon groaned. "I don't think I can take another high profile criminal, attention seeking, psychopaths…we only just got rid of the Joker!"

Batman turned to face him so suddenly that Gordon almost bolted backwards. There was always something so black hiding behind the eyes in that mask.

"Don't _ever _assume we're rid of the clown," he growled, "His body was never found,"

Gordon raised an eyebrow at him; they had this discussion many times. Gordon had gone through hell during the Joker's reign and wanted to believe that it was over.

"So," he changed the subject, "This case has caught your attention?"

Batman lowered his head and suddenly backed away into the shadows, like a lightning bolt streaking across the night sky, he was gone in seconds, just before Officer Davis opened the office door.

He met Gordon's eyes across the room, with a raised eyebrow.

"Uhh…Sir why are you sitting in the dark?" he asked the older man and Gordon cleared his throat nervously.

"I was…I have a migraine. Any news officer?"

Davis stepped into the room, shivering a little, unable to shake the feeling that someone else had been here and he suspected that someone else was the Bat. It was no secret that Gordon was in contact with him, everyone talked about it, everyone except Gordon.

"We took shots of the marks on the wall, like I said before the marks match the other three robberies. Three individual claw marks, probably done with a custom made knife, this time they were found scratched into a painting of Truman Emmanuel's wife Elisa," he read the notes that he had scribbled down literally minutes before, "And one other thing….the piece that was stolen…."

Gordon straightened up. "Yes?"

Davis stepped towards the desk and placed a folder on it.

"This is a certificate of authenticity; every piece in here has one. It tells us everything about it including previous owners, its value…well this is interesting because the piece was a very rare green diamond that came from a necklace,"

"Skip to the good part Officer," Gordon said kindly and the younger man blushed.

"Sorry sir. The necklace was taken apart about twenty years ago and the diamond was put on display in here because it's so valuable, it's said to be worth over twelve million dollars,"

Gordon whistled through his teeth. "So who was the previous owner?"

"Well I don't know who wore it but the purchase form was signed by Abbott West,"

Gordon raised his eyebrows. "Well that is interesting, thanks Davis…you should start clearing out now, not much more we can do tonight,"

Davis nodded, casting a wary eye around the room, unable to shake that feeling that they were being listened to.

"Goodnight sir," he turned back to the door, "But Sir…you should see a doctor about that headache,"

Gordon chuckled. "Oh I will son,"

When the boy was gone, Batman stepped out of the darkness.

"Very astute young man. He knew I was here,"

Gordon placed his palms flat on the desk.

"So…you were just telling me not to forget the Joker and bam, it seems he has made another move,"

Batman stared at him, puzzled. "This isn't the Joker's work Commissioner. Why would you think that?"

"Well, Siren West of course. That was who the necklace belonged to. We all know that the Joker had an unhealthy fixation with Amelia West,"

Batman shook his head. "No, I disagree," he murmured, "Although its been two years since he was last in Gotham and I don't believe he is dead, this wasn't him. He would want us to know it was him. And those claw marks? Its just not his usual brand of fun,"

Gordon stood up behind the desk. "I'll send you any footage that we drag up, if any was caught,"

"I'll be waiting," Batman said quietly preparing to leave the darkened room.

Leaving Gordon in the shadows, he slipped quietly by the various police officers that were still combing over evidence. Outside in the chilly night air he blended into the dark corners of the alley ways until he found the car parked down a side street.

Gritting his teeth against the cold air he slipped into the car, its roar as it started up, echoed around the city streets.

Why could nothing be simple? He thought as the car thundered along the quieter back streets of Gotham, heading north towards home.

Two years of peace and now all that was threatened to be ruined once again. Although Bruce didn't believe it was Jack Napier that was involved in these robberies, it was hard to shake the thought that it was somehow connected with Amelia's family.

The diamond from the necklace wasn't the most valuable in Emmanuel's by far, but the thief had almost searched it out, like it had some sentimental value.

Wayne Manor loomed ahead and Bruce turned the car off road, taking the woodland entrance, the huge vehicle disappearing into a black tunnel and emerging in the cave at the other end.

The air was musty and damp, his breath fogging before his face. He felt anxious and uncomfortable in his suit, panic rising in his throat.

He was out of his armour and into a T shirt and slacks in a few moments, his footsteps echoing around him as he climbed the stone steps hastily.

Alfred was in the kitchen when he reached the house, the smell of cooked chicken making his stomach growl. Alfred looked up when the younger man entered, immediately noting his pained, tense expression.

"What's wrong sir?" he asked.

"Where are the girls?" Bruce asked, his voice low, his eyes darting nervously about the brightly lit kitchen.

"Miss Libby has been in bed for hours, Master Bruce," Alfred shot him a puzzled expression, "And Amelia is in the living room, last time I checked, I think she wanted to wait up for you. Whatever is the matter Sir? You're as white as a sheet,"

Bruce began to pace, rubbing his tired eyes. "It's probably nothing Alfred…just…I'm going to check Lib, I wont be long,"

Before Alfred could protest Bruce was out the door and heading for the marble staircase. Alfred was quickly behind him.

"Don't wake her up Sir!" the older man hissed behind him, "It took me two hours just to get her upstairs earlier,"

Bruce ignored him, his heart tight in his chest until he reached the second floor corridor. He stopped in front of the first door on the right, straining his ears to hear for sounds from within. When he heard nothing he quietly opened the door and breathed a huge sigh of relief.

The child sleeping soundly in the cot was blond and angelic just like her Mother, her dark lashes fluttering lightly against her creamy pale skin. Bruce lingered over the cot, a soft smile on his face.

Until Liberty was born he hadn't realised it was possible to feel so much for one person. She took up every waking thought, his heart bursting with love and affection every time she smiled at him. He was more fortunate than most fathers in that he had been able to be at home for her first precious moments, experiencing everything with Amelia as and when it happened.

Amelia was his wife who he loved above all others but at the same time, he knew that he didn't really have her. He often caught the far off look on her face, that sad, pained expression when she looked at Libby.

She was thinking of someone else. At least with Libby, he had her all to himself, their relationship was pure and untainted and he could spoil her and love her the way he couldn't love her mother.

Hearing soft steps behind him, he turned and saw Amelia there, her face pinched with worry. She was dressed in a silk robe and her long blonde hair framed her face.

"Bruce is everything Ok?" she touched his arm, "Alfred said…"

Bruce waved a hand in the air. "No its nothing…but we do have to talk,"

He wrapped an arm around her waist as they exited the baby's room, closing the door behind them.

"Is this about the robbery?" Amelia asked when they were out in the hall, "I saw the news tonight,"

Bruce took her hand and led her back down the marble staircase, where in the living room Alfred had laid out a tray for them. It was their little ritual that on most nights Amelia would wait up for him and they would eat together after he had gotten home, it was the only time they could talk freely, what with Libby picking up words so quickly now.

"I can't believe that Emmanuel's was broken into!" Amelia said as they settled on the couch, she scooted up close to him, "My mother used to shop there all the time when I was little, it was like going in a mausoleum, I hated it,"

Bruce turned to her, as Alfred appeared and began to strain the tea into two china cups.

"Did you know that your Mother used to own a rare diamond?" he asked and Amelia frowned, her blue eyes narrowing.

"She had thousands of things, I know because I used to get told off for wearing them," Amelia smiled at the memory and Bruce laughed.

"I can believe that, your like a magpie!" he said touching her hand, his fingers straying over the rather large engagement ring he had purchased from Emmanuel's two years ago, "But do you remember a necklace? With a very big green diamond?"

Amelia stayed silent and then her eyes widened at the memory.

"The cats eye!" she said, a laugh breaking her frown, "That's what my father used to call it, yes, I remember that one,"

Bruce pressed his lips together. "The Cat's Eye? Well, do you know what happened to it?"

Amelia shrugged. "I'm not sure. Daddy most likely gave it away or sold it after they divorced…I don't think he let her keep much of her expensive jewels, but I don't suppose it was worth that much,"

Bruce smiled. "Urr…try twelve million dollars!"

Amelia's eyes widened in shock. "No wonder he didn't let her keep it!"

"What's this all about sir?" Alfred interrupted; he had seated himself on the ottoman across from them, obviously intrigued.

"It seems that your Father must have sold the necklace back to Emmanuel's, where it was taken apart and put on display," Bruce began and Amelia sighed.

"So it was stolen?" she said, "That's a shame,"

Bruce shook his head. "It was the only thing that was stolen and believe me there are pieces in that place worth more than that diamond, so you can guess what I'm thinking?"

"The Joker?" Alfred said, his voice tight and Bruce threw him a cutting look.

Amelia's face was flaming red. "You don't think…"

"No!" Bruce said irritably, "I don't think it was him. Why does everyone immediately jump to the Joker? That's what Gordon said when we found out who the necklace belonged to. I told Gordon that this isn't his style,"

Amelia tried to control the expression on her face, hiding the fact that her stomach had done somersaults, at the mere mention of Jack's wicked alias.

"You're right Bruce," she said at last reaching for her china cup, "This isn't what he would do…but still, it feels…"

"Personal," Bruce finished for her, "That's the reason I looked so bothered when I came in,"

Alfred reached across and poured Bruce a cup, stealing a biscuit in the process.

"The real question is who this new face belongs to?" he mused out loud, "And how they are managing to get into these high profile establishments without getting caught? It's quite a feat, breaking into Emmanuel's,"

"Gordon will be sending me over some footage that was caught tonight," Bruce said, "And then lets hope we can get to the bottom of this,"

/////

Amelia slipped back into bed beside Bruce, her face still damp with tears from their earlier disagreement. The sheets were cold against her skin as she snuggled down; wanting desperately to reach out for him but something was holding her back.

This wasn't the first time they had quarrelled and it seemed to be getting worse. After their dinner together, both exhausted they had gone to bed but Amelia seemed to be bracing herself for what would be coming next. Laying there like an inanimate object under the duvet, she had waited for him to slip in beside her. He rolled over and began to kiss her neck, pinning her beneath him with his weight, his body warm against hers. She had tried to respond but she felt like she couldn't breathe and when he noticed her pained expression he pulled away.

"It's him isn't it?" he said sadly, "We only have to mention his name and you change into this…"

"Bruce don't, I'm sorry," her eyes welled up but it was already too late. Turning over he turned the light out and closed his eyes.

Slipping out of bed, Amelia went to the bathroom and burst into tears.

Everything was perfect until she thought about Jack, then it seemed that her world was ripped apart at the seams, the frayed edges as jagged as her nerves. She still thought about that night on the ship. She still thought about that year they spent together.

Sometimes she looked at her daughter and caught a new facial expression or a look in her eye and was instantly reminded of something to do with him. She was so like him in many ways. The way Bruce loved Liberty almost broke her heart, almost as if she were his and his alone. Amelia watched them play together sometimes and she thought that she could even disappear and the pair of them wouldn't mind too much, they had one another. Of course she knew that wasn't true.

Amelia turned over and rested her head against Bruce's broad back, willing a dreamless sleep to reach her.

When she was breathing deeply, Bruce slipped out of bed, giving his wife a kiss on the forehead. Reaching for his robe he quietly exited the room and made his way downstairs.

The robbery was still on his mind and he had hoped by now Jim Gordon may have sent him some footage. Shivering as the elevator lowered itself into the dank cave below the house, Bruce flicked on the lights, the power from the screens all around him whirring into action.

Checking his computer he smiled to see that Gordon had indeed sent him a copy of the footage and he loaded it up. The black and white image appeared on the large flat screen above his head.

To his annoyance there was nothing but a few individual shots of the hall ways and corridors, so he skipped forward then paused abruptly the figure on the screen appearing momentarily.

He rewound the footage, his eyes narrowing at what he was seeing. There was a woman standing in front of the camera, staring up at it, her head cocked to one side. Bruce noted her slim figure, squeezed into what looked like a black suit, pulled right up to her ears and partially covering the top half of her face so that only her mouth and eyes were exposed. She skipped forward towards the camera, as if on tip toe and then leaned upwards, her face pressed quite near to the lens. Bruce noticed immediately that she was extremely attractive; her eye lashes long and her bee stung lips pulling back into a seductive smile up at the camera. She leaned nearer and blew the camera a long, slow kiss, not taking her eyes away from the lens, almost as if she knew that on the other side Bruce was watching.

**A/N Sorry I'm back again! Hope you liked that, but this isn't about the story. I don't know if anyone is interested or if anyone else knows about it but I have discovered on YouTube, this amazing guy who does impressions of the Joker. I know there are loads of them on there, but this is a bit special, I was blown away. The thing that makes him different is that he isn't just doing impressions, he is making up his own material…I think its best you see for yourselves and let me know what you think. I think apart from some minor flaws, like the voice and hair, he is quite amazing!! To find him type in thejokerblogs, there are three videos worth watching and let me know what you think!!**


	3. Verona

**Hi everyone. I apologise that it has taken me a while to update this. Have been really busy at work. Why do we have to work? Anyway, once again thank you so much for all your support, lovely comments and reviews. I hope you like this latest update. This is the 'flashback' thing that I mentioned, just one of a few that will crop up throughout the story.**

Verona Italy

Three Years Earlier

Shivering Amelia stepped out of the bath, her feet cold on the stone floor of the bathroom. Wrapping a towel around her hastily, she peeked out of the door; the sight of the man sprawled out on the bed asleep, making her frown.

Annoyed she crossed the room, still dripping wet and shoved him in the ribcage, to which she got a muffled groan.

"You promised you'd be up and ready by the time I got out of the shower!" she scowled down at him as he narrowed his eyes up at her sleepily.

"Hmm," he moaned, "Don't you know me well enough by now not to believe me when I promise things? I'm a _liar_, ballerina,"

Amelia folded her arms, something about the way he was smiling lazily up at her, making her annoyance fade away.

"The market will be shutting down in an hour," she said and he raised his eyebrows in mock horror.

"Oh no! _Really_? That's just….wait, what am I saying? I think you've gotten me confused with someone who gives a shit!"

Amelia punched him on the shoulder and he stuck out his tongue. When she turned to walk away he grabbed her round the waist unexpectedly and wrestled her back down on the bed.

"Jack, get off," she cried, heat creeping up her body as he began to kiss the tops of her damp shoulders, trailing his mouth up her neck to her vulnerable pulse points, "I'm soaking wet!"

He looked down at her and laughed. "Honey, that's a _good_ thing,"

Suddenly annoyed again, placing her hands on his chest she shoved him off.

"No," she snapped, stalking back to the bathroom, "I'm going out, I'm sick of the inside of this hotel room. I want to see Verona, that's why we came here,"

"No that's why _you _came here!" he called from the bed, "I'm just along for the ride,"

Amelia towelled herself dry and hurriedly pulled on her dark jeans and a white shirt. She ran a brush through her thick blonde hair, a few dark streaks of her days of a brunette still remaining.

Applying some lipstick she thought back over the last three months of their unexpected trip across the globe. Every city or town they had visited had followed the same pattern. They always ended up going out after dark, when the streets were almost empty and the bars were closed. They hadn't once been out in the day time.

In Paris, that had been quiet romantic, walking along the river in the moonlight, like a couple from some old movie. Amelia had been blissfully content, all the grief that she had suffered in Gotham far, far away from her.

But when it happened in Prague, Dublin, London and then Russia before moving here, Amelia not only began to grow suspicious, she was unhappy. She had always known that on some level, her time with Jack would be short, he would leave her eventually. But she had half hoped that he would make a little effort. But what was she saying? This was Jack! What was she expecting?

He was sitting up cross legged on the bed, flicking the channels on the television, a sullen, moody look on his face.

Standing in front of him, she pried the remote control out of his hand and switched off the television.

"I want to go out," she said firmly. He smirked at her, the corners of his eyes lifting, as they always did when he smiled, making the scared folds of his skin crease.

"Then go, I'm not stopping you," he replied curtly and she sighed.

"I have seen the inside of some of the most beautiful hotel rooms in Europe," she said, "But I have had enough, what is the problem?"

Jack folded his arms. "Why would there be a problem?"

Amelia gritted her teeth. "You won't go out unless it's dark out. Why?"

Jack rolled his eyes and flipped off the bed, suddenly close enough to smell the perfume she'd dabbed on her pulse points.

"You always have to push me ballerina. I'm here aren't I? Why isn't that enough for you?"

Amelia couldn't help but laugh. "You're here? You wanted to come, need I remind you. And no, its not enough, because you're not really 'here', your lost in your own head half the time, you mutter in your sleep and some days you don't even speak two words to me,"

Jack clapped his hands together. "And this is what happens when you begin relationship ladies and gentlemen…didn't I ask you about that a while back? Why it is that a woman always wants to change a man…wants to get into his head, hear his every waking thought?"

Amelia stepped away, stung. She turned as her eyes filled with tears, not wanting him to see. This wasn't the first time they'd argued but it was the first time he sounded like he really meant it.

She cleared her throat. "Well, you can have some alone time with your 'thoughts'," she said, "I'm going out to the market before it shuts,"

She grabbed her wrap, flinging it around her shoulders before stalking out of the hotel room door.

Outside, the air was cool on her skin, making her cheeks pink and she breathed it in. she followed the smells of cooking, her tummy growling in appreciation as she wandered the cobbled streets to where the market was set up. Dotted along the sidewalks were various stalls, all offering inviting produce, she bought some olives and nibbled on them as she walked. It was such a beautiful old city, with its gothic architecture, sidewalk cafes and pretty boutiques.

She wandered aimlessly, not really looking at the sights around her, wishing desperately that Jack was at her side. Up ahead there was some street theatre and she hesitantly peered her head over the sea of bodies to see what the gathering crowd was looking at. There was a man on the side walk, his face painted black and white, he was nothing but a street clown, a mime, but Amelia's eyes widened.

The crowd laughed as he pretended to fall backwards but then back flipped at the last minute. They applauded and jeered as he began to search through the crowd with his eyes.

Amelia swallowed, feeling slightly uncomfortably and she stepped away from the crowd. She didn't know how long she spent wandering the streets, her thoughts lost in memory. Even when she wasn't with him for five minutes, it seemed he still managed to dominate her every waking thought.

They had been together for four months and she realised that for that whole time, she had been completely ignorant to his plight. Maybe it was because she saw him all day every day that she had stopped seeing his scars. Maybe it was because she loved him.

But what she had forgotten was that he still saw them, everyday, leering back at him in the mirror, that sneer a permanent reminder of who he was.

She hurried back to the hotel as dusk drew in, the chilly night air making her skin tingle. She was surprised to find him buttoning up a shirt when she went back inside the room and he shot her an angry glare.

"You were gone a while," he snarled and she ignored him, pushing past him to the bathroom, where she began riffling through the draws, "I almost began to worry,"

"Don't strain yourself," she muttered, rolling her eyes and laying her hands on the items she was looking for.

Casually strolling back into the bedroom she handed him the face paints. He shot her a quizzical stare.

"Is this some sort of bonding exercise?" he joked taking the tubes in his fingers, staring down at them like he hadn't seen them in a long time.

Their eyes met.

"Make me up," she said, her heart beating frantically in her chest. She was hoping that this would work. Jack stared at her for a long time before flashing her a confused smile.

"I'm a little…puzzled," he mused, his tongue flicking to his lips nervously, "You want me to paint your face?"

Amelia put her hands on her hips. "That's right. Then I'll do yours," she said confidently, "Then we'll go out to dinner,"

Jack stepped backwards. "You want to look like a freak? You want people to stare at you?"

Amelia stepped closer and took his hand. "No, I want people to stare at _us_. Because in case you haven't noticed, we're together now,"

"Oh I see," Jack mumbled his eyes suddenly dark and angry, "You think that if you put on a little face paint you'll suddenly understand how it feels to be me? Sweetie pie…you have no idea how it feels to be me!"

Amelia took the paints out of his hands and began to squeeze the white grease over her fingers. In wonder, he watched as she pushed past him to the mirror and began to smear the paint all over her creamy pale skin.

"I have a newsflash for you…_sweetie pie_," she smiled at him in the mirror, "I don't _want _to know how it feels to be you, I just thought it looked like fun! Aren't you the one who always says I need to lighten up?"

He watched her rub the paint into her skin, taking it right up to the hair line. When she reached for the black he appeared behind her in the mirror.

"Let me, then," he said prising the tube from her fingers. With a triumphant grin, Amelia squeezed her eyes shut as he rubbed the black around her eye contour, the grease cold on her skin. He kissed her mouth before taking his index finger and coating it in red paint.

"Let's put a smile on that face," he giggled tracing the line of her mouth and stretching it up nearly half way to her ears. He took her shoulder and turned her back to the mirror.

"Very cute," she said opening her eyes and seeing her twisted reflection there, grinning at her endlessly, "Now your turn,"

She unbuttoned his shirt and pushed it off his broad shoulders. Raking her hands through his hair, pushing it away from his face, he stared up at her.

Amelia took the white and squeezed it into her palms, massaging the cool liquid together and then began to smear it all over Jack's bare face, working it down his neck. His scars felt puffy under her fingertips, feeling him flinch as she traced over them, but she didn't stop till the whole of his face was white. With the black she was more careful, taking it up to his lashes, the entire time he never took his gaze away from her, making the hairs on the back of her neck rise. Finally she grabbed the red, her pulse beating in her fingertips. Jack placed his own hands on her waist, running his fingers under her shirt, making her skin prickle with excitement.

"Ok all done," she breathed as his mouth met hers roughly. Entangling her arms around his neck she gave herself up to him, her body helplessly surrendering to his warmth and needs.

"Weren't you saying something about dinner?" he whispered in here ear afterwards ash they lay on the bed, the sheets entangled around them, "Cause if we are going out, you're make up is ruined,"

Amelia smiled, a deep sigh escaping her lips. "So is yours,"

As the night drew in, they left the Hotel room, both grinning and laughing at each other. As they sat in a restaurant opposite the Castle Vecchio, they both sniggered at each other across the table, too oblivious to notice fellow diners, staring at them in wonder.

The young couple at the dinner table were painted up like clowns, which was odd, but it was mostly the way they looked at each other that caught people's attention. They seemed completely lost, reminding people of that giddy, delirious sensation of being completely absorbed in one another.

Amelia on the other hand felt like a twelve year old going to a Halloween party. She hadn't felt this free since being a kid. She didn't care that people were pointing at them and laughing behind their hands.

After dinner, they walked along the dimly lit cobbled streets. Jack had his hand shoved into his pockets and Amelia was clinging to her wrap, the night air chilly around them.

"So was that so bad?" she bumped his shoulder with hers and he gave a reluctant shrug.

"You're just going to have to get used to people staring at you ballerina," he said, suddenly quiet and serious, for a change, "For all the wrong reasons,"

Amelia looked at him side on, his eerie painted face, shining in the lamp light, her heart suddenly filled with sadness.

She linked her fingers with his. "I've been stared at my whole life Jack, for the wrong reasons. I think you've forgotten who my parents were,"

She didn't want to add that she had been forced to witness an entire lifetime of depression and self hatred that her own mother rained upon herself. The evening had been great and her plan, so far had worked and she didn't want to kill the mood.

"What's this place?" Jack looked up at a large building, Italian gothic architecture at its best. It was sectioned off from the cobbled street by a large iron gate and had a pretty little courtyard.

"Oh, that's supposed to be 'Juliet's' house," Amelia explained, "I walked past it earlier and it was rammed with tourists,"

Jack turned and looked at the building curiously. "You mean Juliet as is 'Romeo and Juliet'?"

Amelia laughed. "That's the one. She was just a fictional character but this is meant to be where the real Juliet lived….if you look through the gate you can see a statue of her," she leaned against the wrought iron gate and pointed and Jack strained his eyes.

"Oh, yeah!" he grinned, "How romantic…except that it's all a big tourism con!"

Amelia rolled her eyes. "Hmm,"

In the moonlight Jack withdrew a pocket knife from his jacket and Amelia instantly recoiled, not even thinking for a moment that he still even kept his knife with him. He noted her shocked expression.

"Take it easy, ballerina. This isn't for you,"

She watched, wide eyed as he caught the iron bars between his hands and climbed, nimbly over the gate, landing with a thud on the other side.

"What are you doing!" she hissed but he waved at her to be quiet. He crept across to the statue of Juliet and hurriedly began to carve something at the base.

Amelia folded her arms, her foot tapping restlessly as finally he finished and ran back to the gate. When he landed safely back beside her, she punched his arm.

"What the hell are you doing?" she cried and he giggled manically.

"Just making my presence known, ballerina," he replied catching her around the waist and pulling her closer.

"What did you write?" she asked staring up at him and he shook his head.

"You'll have to come back here one day and find out," he whispered before kissing her mouth softly.

Her heart swelling in her chest, she said no more. Smiling at him, helpless like a child, she took his hand and they disappeared down the darkened street.

**Have you guys watched the joker blogs on you tube yet? Check it out. I'm a bit obsessed. Thanks for reading and hope you enjoyed! xx**


	4. What is mine

**A/N Ok here is another one, hope you enjoy and let me know what you think. Back to the present day again. I do not own any D.C Comic character.**

**What is Mine**

The Museum of Art & History

Gotham City

Sarah bit down on her lip, taking the slack of the metal grid, her legs bucking a little under the weight. With a grunt she hoisted it off of the air vent, letting a whoosh of air escape her lips as she lifted the heavy object and let it clang to the floor, the noise echoing around her. She winced at the noise, preying that the security guard hadn't heard that, but then she was on the roof of the prestigious, most famous building in old Gotham, twelve stories up high in the chilly night air.

Taking the hook from her belt, Sarah fastened it to the vent and climbed inside, lowering herself down, her arms trembling a little with having to support her own body weight.

Lowering herself into the dark tunnel, nothing below her but a twelve story drop, she took slow breaths, keeping her mind focussed.

Emmanuel's had been a steal compared to this place. The building was over eighty years old and with more air vents and tunnels than a mine, it was like a maze to try and break into. It had been built to house valuable and famous pieces of art and antiques that had history older than the country she lived in. There were rare Picassos, Raphael's and Munch's in this building, all entombed behind thick, bullet proof glass, an enticing challenge to someone like Sarah.

Except she wasn't here for a painting.

When, at last her boots hit firm ground she released the rope and unhooked it from her belt. She crawled through the vent until she saw a light up ahead. If she had done her homework correctly then she would be in the exact right place. The grid appeared in her line of vision and she flicked out the blade from her belt, her knees aching as she began to twist the bolts, sweat beads clustering under her mask.

"Uh, thank god," she whispered as the last bolt came loose in her hand and once again she grabbed the heavy vent. She lowered it onto the polished floor on the other side and then slipped through the vent, straightening her back.

She took the cell phone from her belt and looked down at it with a smile, dialling the code into the phone. All at once every light, security camera and alarm system in the museum went dead, giving her a free run, her eyes widening greedily as she looked about.

But she had no time to be greedy. She had exactly four minutes until the museum's security station would detect a failure and reboot the system.

Taking her flash light she ran on light feet through the room and up a narrow fire escape stair way. Breathing hard she arrived in the 'Film Memorabilia' Hall, a sweet shop filled with delights for any movie fanatic, housing old pieces of film history. Some of the most famous props, costumes and set pieces from major movies were kept here. Sarah was after one item. She found the costume hall, her eyes roaming in wonder over the life size cases, until she saw what she came for.

To the untrained eye, it appeared to be no more than a simple white caftan, but it was the piece of jewellery around the neck of the dummy that Sarah was here for. Below the case there was an inscription on a plaque, which read.

**Actress: Siren West**

**Movie: The Egyptian Princess 1983**

The necklace that Siren West, then only nineteen years old had worn in the movie was a rare and valuable diamond, set in pure amethyst stone. It was worth over eight million dollars.

Sarah glanced at her watch. Three minutes. She could do this.

She took an instrument from her belt and began to slice through the glass like it was paper the blade sending splinters of glass flying, until it was weak enough to lift out a section. She let the glass slip to the floor, the shattering sound of it smashing filling her head, but she ignored it, reaching into the case and snatching the necklace from the dummy's neck.

Then she ran, her feet on the ground silent and swift, her heart beating in her chest like thunder.

Reaching the vent she cast a knowing look over her shoulder, licking her lips nervously.

"Nearly forgot," she whispered running to the stone wall of the building. Hurriedly she clawed three knife marks into the wall, her calling card.

As every light flashed back on in the museum and the air was filled with the howl of sirens, Sarah's feet disappeared up the vent from which she had come.

Almost laughing when she crawled through the vent at the top of the building, she collapsed on the ground, breathing hard from exhaustion of having to haul herself up twelve stories. Rolling onto her back she stared up at the stars, clutching the necklace to her chest.

"Back where you belong," she whispered, breathless, her heart swelling with self satisfaction.

Finally climbing to her feet, she smiled as she heard the familiar wail of the cop cars in the distance. Turning to cross the roof, a scream caught in her throat, the figure standing in the shadows catching her by surprise. She narrowed her eyes.

"Oh…_you_," she groaned as the figure stepped into the light of the moon above, "Great,"

The Joker gave her a devilish grin, uncrossing his arms. "Is that anyway of greeting your brother after three years, Sarah?"

Sarah folded her arms, swallowing. Even now, after all she'd done, the sight of his deranged smile still jangled her nerves.

"Actually, it's Selina," she corrected him and he giggled.

"That's not what there calling you in the papers. What was it again? The Cat, that's it. What is it with this family and aliases?"

"I don't know you tell me, Joker," she hissed, "What are you doing back here? The last I heard you were washed up on a desert island somewhere,"

He chuckled at her and moved slowly out of the shadows towards her. Sarah felt her knees trembling a little but she didn't move.

"Not nearly as nice as that, I'm afraid," he mused thoughtfully, "But that's all history now…I need to catch up on what I've missed,"

Sarah's heart sank. Why couldn't he have just stayed lost? Why did he have to be here, now?

She found herself clutching the necklace tighter in her fist.

"How did you know I'd be here?" she asked, curious.

He began to circle her widely, his black eyes, like holes staring out of that white, garish face.

"Well seeing as you've taken a liking to fame and your recent activities have been well described in the papers, it caught my attention," he said, his tongue darting across his lips nervously, "And I put two and two together and came up with six. You're collecting tokens belonging to your dead mother, how _sweet_,"

"That's…not what I'm doing," her voice faltered as he came closer.

"Oh no? How could I have gotten that wrong? Then let me ask you a question….why do you want to hurt her?"

He breathed the last word and Sarah's eyes widened.

"This isn't about Amelia," she shook her head, "This has nothing to do with her. I'm here for what's _mine_, that's all. All this stuff…" she held up the necklace, "There is more than one heir to the West fortune you know and seeing as she isn't the slightest bit bothered about where it's kept, I felt it was fair game. Its half mine and I want it,"

"Hmm," the Joker smiled, his eyes lingering on the glittering necklace in Sarah's hand, "And the fact that it's all worth millions of dollars doesn't matter, hmm? Its sentimental value. I've got some of my dad's old knives if you'd like them?"

Sarah looked away, his laugh chilling her. "No, thank you," she shot at him.

"No?" he laughed, "I could shine em up for you, make them all sparkly…I know how you love all things shiny, my little magpie,"

Sarah turned and walked away, her heart hammering in her chest. The museum below was by now probably crawling with cops and she was still at the scene. His footsteps were quick over the concrete and he grabbed her shoulder roughly, spinning her to face him.

"And where are you off to princess?" he spat in her face, his eyes like coals, "You don't just walk out of a family reunion, it's _rude_,"

He grinned and straightened his neck tie. She stepped back and folded her arms.

"I'll ask you a question…" she said, "Why do _you _want to hurt her?"

The Joker looked mock offended. "Now why does everyone assume that I want to hurt her?"

Sarah rolled her eyes. "Well you did blow up the ship you were both on,"

"I put her in a life raft!" he protested unable to keep the giggle out of his voice.

"And left her for dead," Sarah added.

"I saved her…that's not hurting her,"

Sarah nodded. "You were saving her alright….for something else," her voice lowered, "It's always about her isn't it? Cant you leave her alone?"

The Joker stepped away, cocking his head sideways and staring at her for a long time.

"Maybe it's a little bit about her….but it's more about someone else. Tell me," he began to pace, running his hand nervously through his greasy hair, "Have you ever noticed that wherever Amelia goes, Batman is sure to follow,"

Sarah raised an eyebrow. "Batman?"

"Yes, you've seen him…big guy, loves black rubber, hangs out on roof tops like you,"

"I _know_ who Batman is," she said drily, "What are you getting at?"

The Joker placed his arms behind his back.

"Only that on more than one occasion, he's just _magically_ appeared, wherever she happens to be…remember the club the night we all met? And one time at Wayne Manor, I turned up for a party, the lights went black and _poof,_ like magic, there he is. And Bruce Wayne….is conveniently missing,"

Sarah burst out laughing. "You think Bruce Wayne is Batman?"

The Joker dropped his smile. "Why is that so hard to believe?"

Sarah waved her hands in the air. "Because….its Bruce Wayne. I spent a while getting to know him while I lived with Amelia and…well….its very hard to believe!"

The Joker stepped closer once again, the grease from his paint shining in the darkness.

"People are never what you expect my dear," he said in a hushed voice, "For example, would you have believed me if I told you that your upstanding older sister would spend a year with a wanted criminal….that she would have his child?"

Sarah's eyes widened, and then she laughed.

"Oh you've got to be kidding me?" she said, "That's why you're back? Amelia's daughter is yours…that _is_ major,"

The Joker rolled his eyes. "People lie. They are never what they say they are. Your sister married Bruce Wayne….the Batman,"

Sarah spent a moment digesting this information. She had seen quite a bit of Batman on the news the last few years and she had always been intrigued. She would never have suspected in a million years that he was her sister's one time playboy of a husband, that was if the Joker was telling the truth. She had looked forward to coming back to Gotham, hoping that she might have run into him on more than one occasion.

"Well that's too bad," she said more to herself, "So, tell me exactly….why do you care so much? The kid is in a nice, stable home, better than what either of us had growing up. Don't tell me you've suddenly grown a parental bone in that skinny body of yours?"

The Joker grinned at the younger woman's jibe at his expense.

"I just think that it's important that the kid knows the truth," he folded his arms and tapped his foot impatiently, "Don't want her growing up all confused, now do we?"

Sarah sighed seeing that there was no reasoning with him. She couldn't understand his motive, but then she had never been able to read him, but one thing she was sure of, was that he wasn't about to let her just walk away from him tonight. He would drag her into his plan by her hair if he had to.

"So I'm guessing this is the part where you threaten me?" she said.

The Joker laughed and flicked the knife out of his jacket pocket, the deadly blade gleaming under the moon light.

"You want to continue with your fun and I want mine," he began, licking his lips, "Lets say you keep the Bat interested…distracted for a while….and I wont reveal you to Gotham to be the low life, conniving little snake that you really are and big sis never finds out you're home. Keep him busy and preoccupied for me, that sound too hard?"

Sarah shrugged. "No, it sounds fun," she looked at him, "We really should get out of here before they begin to comb the roof,"

He nodded and followed her towards the fire exit stairs, a narrow, metal ladder that was nailed to the side of the building. Dropping silently into the alley below, they crouched as a cop car sped past, pinning themselves to the wall hidden in shadow.

In the darkness Sarah turned to her brother, a stranger to her in so many ways, but so alike in others.

"You have to promise me you wont hurt either of them?" she said suddenly, grabbing the sleeve of his jacket, "I didn't come back here to hurt Amelia…I just wanted what's mine,"

The Joker howled with laughter and pinched her cheek so hard that she winced.

"Spoken like a true Napier," he said as she pulled away, "Like you, my sweet, all I want, is what's mine,"


	5. Baby Mine

**Hello everyone. I'm so, so sorry that I've taken so long to update! There is more coming this weekend, I promise. Been working hard and lots of late nights, so I haven't had any chance to write. I hope you guys like this and there is more coming! Thank you for all your reviews and thanks to everyone that has added me to their favs. xxxx**

**Baby Mine**

Amelia pretended to squeeze her eyes shut as the figure slipped into the bed beside her in the darkness. She'd heard his familiar footsteps on the carpet as he'd done his usual trek along the hall to Libby's bedroom, where he'd looked in on her before coming to bed. She felt Bruce's warmth against her back and she relaxed on him.

"Are you awake?" he whispered, close to her ear.

She smiled. "I was hoping you wouldn't notice. I always wake up when you come in, it's like an alarm clock," she said into the shadows.

"Sorry," she heard Bruce chuckle, "At least I don't wake up Libs, I don't think a Boeing 747 crashing through the roof would wake her up!"

Amelia laughed at that. "Anything interesting happen out there tonight?"

Bruce cleared his throat in the darkness as Amelia moved against him.

"Well the Museum was robbed tonight," he began, "And Gordon suspects that 'The Cat' was involved,"

Amelia rolled her eyes. "The _Cat?_ Honestly what is it with this city and its wacky criminals?"

Bruce wasn't sure how to begin to tell his wife that the artefact stolen was yet another priceless piece of memorabilia that had once belonged to Amelia's mother. She had seemed so fragile the last few days, almost far away and distant, as though horrible memories from the past were haunting her.

"Have you seen the Cat?" Amelia asked suddenly and Bruce was thrown from his trail of thoughts. He cleared his throat, a flush crossing his cheeks. He didn't want to admit that he'd spent more time than was necessary studying 'The Cat' and her recent activities. He couldn't deny that something about the masked criminal intrigued him and he had pushed away the thoughts that he found her extremely attractive.

"I've had some security footage, but not much…"

Amelia smiled to herself in the darkness and rolled onto her side. She wasn't completely stupid. She'd known Bruce long enough to know when he found another woman attractive. He'd spent more time in the cave studying this new vigilante than he had with her. His gaze was far off and he appeared restless and agitated.

Unbelievably she wasn't jealous, maybe because she was so sure of Bruce's love for her. When he made a promise he didn't break it and she understood him completely.

Bruce would never betray her. He was a good man.

They fell into a deep sleep and it wasn't long before Amelia felt the familiar movement beneath her body as the ocean pushed her through the air, the waves crashing violently around her like a vengeful sea king. She struggled; sweat breaking out across her forehead, her heart beating frantically.

Kicking her legs in her sleep, her shrill scream woke her from the nightmare and she sat up in the darkness, damp and clammy.

When her breathing calmed she squeezed her eyes shut and sobbed. It was always that same nightmare, being lost at sea in that flimsy raft. She cast a wary look at her sleeping husband and breathed a sigh of relief that she hadn't woken him. He had enough to deal with without having to keep worrying about her all the time.

She could still hear her own screaming inside her head and she swallowed trying to block it out. Then she shook her head blinking in the darkness and realised that it wasn't her that was screaming.

Leaping out of bed, her bare feet padded along the corridor towards Libby's room.

The little blonde was sitting up in her cot her arms stretched out frantically towards her Mother. Amelia scooped her up, kissing her clammy forehead.

"Baby girl," she soothed, "What is it?"

Libby's cheeks were pink and hot to the touch and Amelia leaned down and felt her bed sheets, which were damp with sweat.

"Is everything alright Mrs Wayne?" Alfred's voice came from the door behind her and Amelia whirled around.

He was standing there in a robe and slippers, his face tense with worry.

"Oh Alfred, sorry to wake you….I've never heard her scream like this before. Bruce and I were only just saying on how well she sleeps," she said rocking the child in her arms.

"Well she's fine now you're here," he commented, "Must have been a nightmare,"

"Poor Libs," she stroked her back and held her tightly, "What was you dreaming about?"

Alfred stepped into the room and cast his eyes about. "It's cold in here," he said almost to himself before setting eyes on the open window.

Amelia saw it too and bit her lip. "Bruce must have…"

"That's not something he'd do Miss," Alfred shook his head, but caught her worried eyes with his, "It must have been me…I'm old and probably going mad. I brought Miss Libby's laundry up before I went to bed. It was me, I'm certain,"

Although he sounded convinced, Amelia wasn't, but met his smile.

"It doesn't matter Alfred," she said holding Libby tighter in her arms, "You should get back to sleep,"

He nodded and left the room, leaving Amelia to stare down at her daughter's empty cot, dread climbing up her throat like a pair of hands about to suffocate her.

She had seen the card before when she'd reached in to touch the damp sheets but Alfred's appearance had startled her, so she'd let it lie in the folds of the fabric, unnoticed. Her heart was racing in her chest and she couldn't suppress the sickness rising in her throat.

Reaching into the crib she picked up the card between her fingers, recognising the childish scrawled handwriting before she'd even read it. It was a Joker playing card.

Libby nestled against her shoulder as with trembling hands, Amelia looked down at the writing next to the picture of the grinning clown.

'Baby Mine' was all it said but it was enough to send Amelia's head whirling. Marching to the window she bolted it shut, the breeze outside catching her unaware, making her shiver. She peered out of the window and down into the courtyard but all was dark. She knew that if anyone was still there, Bruce's security system would have probably lit up the whole house by now.

But he _had _been here. Amelia was positive and also amazed that he had managed to breach Wayne Manor without getting caught. But then if someone were able to break into fortresses like Emmanuel's then getting into a house wasn't really a challenge.

Amelia cradled her daughter against her and fell into the rocking chair in the corner.

He'd come back to Gotham. Amelia should have known that it wouldn't be too long before his natural curiosity would get the better of him.

This was just like him, to taunt her with notes and drive her crazy with little clues, making his presence felt. Why couldn't he just leave her alone?

"I'm so sorry baby," Amelia stroked Libby's soft blonde hair, "I'm so sorry that he scared you,"

Amelia pushed the thought away of the Joker leaning over Libby's crib, probably terrifying the poor child to death. No wonder she had been screaming.

Now completely relaxed, Libby slept soundly against Amelia's chest, not caring that her heart was racing like a terrified bird's inside her rib cage.

The woman that crept lightly down the corridor to her bedroom was a different one that the Joker had thrown away from the ship that night.

It was an entirely different woman who placed her daughter in her bed next to her sleeping husband. She wasn't weak anymore. And she would never let him hurt her child.

"Bruce!" she shook his shoulder roughly until he blinked up at her.

"What?" he mumbled turning over sleepily.

"We need to talk, wake up…._please,"_

Bruce sensed the panic in her voice and sat up, careful not to disturb Libby sleeping next to him.

He followed her out into the hall way and she showed him the Joker card. Bruce visibly paled under the soft light of the lamps on the wall.

"Where did you find this?" he breathed.

"In Libby's crib. He was in here Bruce! Jack got into our house and found our daughter. This is another game, I know it…."

"Take it easy," Bruce soothed, letting her lean against him for support.

"How can I?" the emotion she had tried so desperately to suppress welled up in her throat, "He was here. Why is he doing this Bruce? Hasn't he put us all through enough?"

Bruce held her tighter, feeling her body tremble. "You know there is no answer to those questions. There is no 'Why' with Jack Napier. He does it because he can…because he finds it funny,"

Amelia pulled away, her face red and blotchy from tears.

"No, Bruce you don't understand…." She swallowed, "I know you think he's some deranged criminal but there is _always _a reason with him….you forget that I spent a hell of a long time with him…"

Bruce pulled away, his face tensing. He used an extreme amount of will power on a daily basis to try and forget that the woman he loved had been so intimately entangled with that man. Amelia saw the look in his eyes, the look she dreaded seeing whenever the Joker's name was ever mentioned.

Even a random news clipping could send Bruce off into a sulk for hours, even days. It was a constant reminder that Libby was not his.

"That's his trick," Amelia continued, knowing that it hurt him physically to hear it, "He lets you believe that you have him all figured out. He lets you think that he is this mad, evil clown….but he's not….mad, I mean. He knows what he's doing, all the time,"

Bruce folded his arms, sighing deeply.

"I'm sorry darling; I forget sometimes that you're so well acquainted with him,"

Amelia rolled her eyes. "Bruce don't be like that. We are _passed_ that now,"

He rubbed his eyes, willing his jealous streak back down. He knew that he was being ridiculous.

"Sorry….sorry," he apologised, holding her cold hands in his, "Well….what do you think he wants this time?"

"Isn't it obvious?" she said sadly, "This isn't about me anymore. He didn't want me. But he wants _her._ The Joker wants his daughter,"

////

Outside in the cold night air, the Joker skipped along the dirt road back to the Chevy parked in the undergrowth. He couldn't feel the air turning to ice around him. He couldn't feel the cold ground seeping through the soles of his shoes.

He was on fire.

Unlocking the car, he bundled inside, giggling to himself, an urge to let out a huge gush of laughter very tempting. Instead he started the car and pulled it slowly back out onto the road, the dim lights of Wayne Manor blinking at him in the rear view mirror.

He swallowed, shaking his head as memories clouded his already disturbed thoughts.

It was summer in his memory and he could smell salt from the waves.

He shook his head violently.

_No going back, no going back_, he repeated over and over.

But it was hard to forget her voice. Her dammed voice always in his head, laughing at him, telling him stories. She was always with him.

It was like there was a young man in his head. A young man, hopeful and kind, but also full of fight. He was fighting to be heard, fighting for control of his mind, of his memories. It was almost like the boy was gaining on him, every minute another step closer, forcing him to remember.

The boy in his mind was the reason that he'd come here tonight. It was almost as if he'd had no control over his body, no awareness when he'd smashed the car window and yanked out the passenger, throwing him violently to the ground before stealing his car.

He'd driven to the outer limits of Gotham in a heated daze, the need inside him almost primal. _Instinctive._

He wanted to see his child.

Jack had stood in the shadows of Amelia's bedroom for nearly twenty minutes, watching the soft rise and fall of her chest as she slept. His hands had ached to touch her, every part of his body willing him to, like he belonged to her, as if it were his right.

But The Joker hated her. She had made him weak. She had turned him soft. The Joker didn't like Amelia and wanted to hurt her.

So he had left and went to find his sleeping child.

He had stood transfixed above her crib, his black eyes softening as he watched her.

It was amazing to think that she had somehow come from him. That he had created the little girl lying in the bed.

She was perfect.

But then she'd woken up, almost as if she'd sensed him hovering there like a terrifying vision from a gothic fairy tale.

He was out of the window before the first scream of terror erupted from her tiny mouth. She had a pair of lungs on her that was certain. Down in the courtyard he'd watched as the Nursery light had flicked on and Amelia's shadow was cast against the wall. He'd swallowed, his heart tearing against his sternum, the need to see her almost choking him. Sweating he'd pulled himself into the shadows, ignoring the voice that was telling him to stay put, to reveal himself to her. He just wanted to look at her one more time. But he'd hidden, literally dragging himself away just before she peeked out of the window, hearing the crash of the window being pulled shut.

Then he was gone.

Back in the car, driving at speed along the highway back to the twinkling lights of Gotham, the Joker fought with his inner enemy.

Why couldn't he let this game end? What kept drawing him back?

The boy was clawing at his insides, slowly killing him and it wouldn't be long before there would be a fight to the death. It was either Jack or The Joker. They could never live together in harmony; one had to die so that the other could live.

As he arrived back in Gotham, the city he loved, he began to laugh.

He laughed so hard he cried.


	6. Broken Glass

**Hello and once again I apologise for the long time between updates. This is more of a plot filler. Thanks to everyone for reviewing and adding me to their lists! Hope you all enjoy and let me know what you think xx**

**Broken Glass**

Amelia hadn't planned on bringing her daughter into the city today. There was a light snow that had settled overnight, washing Gotham in a dusting of pure, clean white flakes that glistened in the sun. After the events of last night she had barely slept a wink, terrified that The Joker would reappear. Bruce had been up all night and for that alone she was reassured. Libby had been crotchety all morning, also suffering from a lack of sleep and it had been hard for Amelia to have five minutes to herself. The little girl was grumpy and clingy, whinging the moment her Mother was out of her sight and even Alfred couldn't make her smile.

As the Limo slowly moved through the icy streets, Amelia glanced at the little girl sitting to her left, all bundled up in her red woollen coat and cream bobble hat. She grinned deviously at Amelia and she couldn't help warm up at the sight of her cheeks dimpling.

"Hmm," Amelia smiled, "You do know how to get your own way don't you?"

Libby held out her doll to her Mother and Amelia took it and placed it on her lap.

"Mommy has a few errands to run this morning," she said knowing that she was talking more to herself than Libby, "But when we're done we can go to Rumen's and pick you out a new outfit for Lucy,"

Libby only understood a few words here and there and she could barely speak them. But she understood 'Rumen's. It was the most famous Toy Store in Gotham and for a two year old it was the most magical place in the world. Her blue eyes lit up eagerly.

"Go, now," she moaned and Amelia laughed.

"No, later baby," she pinched Libby's nose, "Mommy has a meeting,"

In the two years since becoming 'Mrs Wayne' Amelia had realised that certain responsibilities had come with that title. No longer could she drift through her life aimlessly without purpose. Being Mrs Wayne was as far as her society girl days as she could ever have dreamed. The one thing was the amount of attention she received by the other wives of the wealthiest men in the city, not to mention employees of Wayne Enterprises.

Years ago the former Mrs Wayne, Bruce's beloved mother had begun a charity that helped clothe and feed all the underprivileged women of Gotham. She had wanted to help get single mothers back to work, to help educate and train women who had recently become widowed and now needed to get back into the workplace again. It was called 'Women of Gotham' and every year there was a gala dinner to help celebrate the success stories from throughout the year. As the new Mrs Wayne, the task had fallen on Amelia to take the reigns of the charity and this was the second event she had arranged herself, last years being a massive hit.

Today was meant to be the day when she had a day to herself to come into the city and put together all the final arrangements for the dinner, which was next Friday night.

Tired and a little irritable, Amelia had not bargained for bringing along her two year old daughter after a night of hell.

Rubbing her eyes as the car pulled up at the kerb, Amelia groaned inwardly as she saw Clarissa Hart waving frantically at her from the steps of the Gotham Opera House.

Clarissa had been the chairwoman of 'Women of Gotham' for ten years and the very brash, loud red haired woman had not been best pleased when Amelia had been voted in as President. She liked to help Amelia with event planning but Amelia suspected it was more to glare over her shoulder and trip her up occasionally.

Clarissa tapped her watch impatiently as Amelia scrambled out of the car, dragging Libby out with her, who had suddenly decided that she preferred the warmth of the Limo.

Clarissa's glossy red lips pulled back in a grimace when she set her eyes on the whining two year old.

"Oh, you brought Libby along," she forced a smile as Amelia dragged her wilful daughter up the snowy steps.

They air kissed and Amelia got a waft of Dior perfume as Clarissa leaned close to her.

"I'm sorry we're late," Amelia apologised, slightly pinked cheeked, "It's a long story. It was a toss up between cancelling and bringing her along and the diary is filling up fast. I can't believe the gala dinner is next week!"

Clarissa took Amelia's arm as they walked up the steps.

"It catches up with you doesn't it," she cast Amelia a sideways glance, "Darling, you look so grey under the eyes….someone been keeping you up?"

Amelia laughed off the insult veiled as concern. She'd gotten used to Clarissa's jibes this past two years.

"You could say that," Amelia laughed, "Plus it doesn't help that I'm holding a massive event in seven days,"

Clarissa raised an eyebrow. "The pressure can get to you, darling, _believe me_ I know. If you're not up to it then you know I can…"

"No, I'm fine really!" Amelia interjected quickly, "Like I said, bad night, that's all,"

The three of them reached the two heavy wooden doors to the Gotham Opera House, which was the venue to this year's event. Amelia had been to an opera last year with Bruce and had been struck with the idea of holding the Gala Dinner here. What with its ornate architecture and romantic history of being one of the oldest buildings in the city, it seemed perfect to hold the charity dinner dance.

The Event Planner met them in the foyer and escorted them both down to the cellar restaurant, where they had to taste the food and wine for the meal.

Holding Libby's gloved hand tightly; Amelia ignored her child wiggling frantically to make a run for it.

Amelia leaned down and whispered in Libby's ear.

"Baby, _please _be good for Mommy," she pleaded, "This will be so much quicker if you behave…then we can go to Rumen's,"

"Go, Rumen's _now!_" Libby moaned and Amelia laughed awkwardly, noticing how the event planner and Clarissa exchanged looks.

Amelia sat and listened patiently while the planner gushed over the menu that she was having the chef prepare for them, while Clarissa hurriedly scribbled down notes, making Amelia feel like a spare part, keeping her one eye constantly on her wilful child who seemed determined to get away.

When the waiter brought out the sample tray of red wine, Libby disappeared under the table, playing with the straps on Amelia's shoes.

"Did you hear about Verity Franklin's dress disaster?" Clarissa rambled as they tasted the wine, "She bought the Vera Wang from that boutique on Brook Street and it turns out that Mimi Holston has gone and bought the same!"

"Oh, that's….terrible," Amelia replied distractedly, trying to inject some enthusiasm into her voice.

"We'll have to meet up to go shopping for your dress this weekend darling….that is if Bruce will have Libby for the day?" she smiled sweetly at her, "We cant have a similar disaster with _our _outfits,"

"Hmm, no," Amelia sighed casting her mind back to last year when she had naively agreed to go shopping with Clarissa. Clarissa had talked her out of the dress she had fallen in love with and then ended up turning up to the dinner wearing it! Amelia wouldn't make that mistake again.

When they had decided on the food and wine, Amelia sighed with relief that the ordeal was coming to an end. As she stood, she stumbled; her foot slipping out of her shoes that Libby had undone and knocked the red wine bottle flying. There was an almighty crash and splatters of red wine flew over her cream woollen coat.

Libby peeked her head out from under the table cloth and Amelia met her eyes with a ferocious glare.

"Oh your beautiful coat darling!" Clarissa wailed having come out of the disaster unscathed.

Her face flaming with embarrassment Amelia hauled her child to her feet.

The waiter ran over to them with a mop and bucket.

"I'm so sorry!" Amelia gasped as he began to scrape up all the fragments of shattered glass.

"Don't touch the broken glass!" the waiter hissed through his teeth and Amelia suddenly wanted the ground to open up and swallow her.

"I'm going to have to leave," Amelia said to Clarissa, knowing she was about to regret her next words, "Could I leave you to finish up here for me? Maybe make notes of anything I miss? I really shouldn't have brought her with me,"

Clarissa shot her a red, glossy smile. "Darling don't worry about a thing, its all taken care of. You get the little….angel home,"

Ignoring the jibe, Amelia hauled her daughter up the stairs of the Opera House, feeling like the worst mother in the world. Libby looked up at her hopefully.

"Rumens now," she said with a grin and Amelia let out a deep sigh.

"Fine," she snapped crossly, "Rumens now,"

She didn't even know why she was agreeing to take her ill behaved child for a treat but there was something about the way Libby smiled at her that always managed to make her heart melt. In the Limo she slipped out of her cream coat, muttering under her breath and surveyed the damage. It looked like she had been covered in blood.

Hit with a memory, suddenly Amelia was no longer in the car but in the alley way behind Gotham Zoo. She was cold and in pain and lying in Bruce's arms. There was a knife protruding from her chest.

She swallowed and closed her eyes, trying to forget the haunting image and the look on Jack's face as he knelt beside her.

How was it possible that so much had happened to her?

Shaken from her daydream by Libby's cries of happiness, the Limo pulled up outside the famous toy store.

"In, in!" she squealed as they climbed out of the car.

"Alright, hold on!" Amelia took her hand as they ventured inside.

An hour passed as Amelia followed her daughter as she ran around the giant toy store, her arms folded, feeling exhaustion creeping over her.

They ended up in the Wendy House Village, where Libby disappeared into the various little plastic houses, her head bobbing between them, slamming and opening doors. Amelia checked her watch and gasped, remembering that Alfred had warned her that he was making dinner early tonight.

"Libs!" she called urgently, "Come on Libs, we're late!"

When Libby didn't come, Amelia rolled her eyes. She was certain that Bruce didn't have this problem when he brought her here.

"Libby, _now_!" she said more firmly, walking in between the small Wendy houses, bending to peer in the windows.

When she still didn't appear Amelia started to feel that uncomfortable tingling up her arms.

She looked in all the houses, pulling open the doors frantically.

"Libby, I mean it!" she said her voice rising in pitch, "You're making Mommy cross,"

She paced up and down the Wendy house village, knocking on all the roofs, her heart starting to pound frantically.

"Where are you?" she cried, her legs turning to lead.

_Baby Mine_.

Amelia raked her hands through her hair, ignoring the stares from passing customers.

"Libby come out _now_!" she cried, tears welling up in her throat.

_Baby Mine._

He couldn't have taken her, not right from under her nose like that. Frantic tears spilled down onto her cheeks, her breathing shallow.

"Boo!"

Suddenly Libby threw herself at her legs, giggling like mad and Amelia cried out and scooped her up. A woman wearing a fur coat was walking away from them and Libby pointed at her. The woman had a very blonde chignon and when she turned to glance back at them, Amelia was wide eyed. Their eyes met for just a second before she woman disappeared into the crowd near the front of the store.

The woman's face was so familiar. Her eyes were ringed with heavy black liner and her lips fire engine red. She looked away quickly when she saw Amelia staring at her.

"Wait!" Amelia called after the woman but she was too quick, "Wait I want to thank you!"

The blonde woman disappeared out onto the icy streets and Amelia pushed her way through the crowd and through the revolving doors, Libby still in her arms.

The woman was gone and Amelia shivered, holding her daughter tighter staring up and down the street empty accept for shoppers. They headed back to the Limo and Amelia strapped the little girl into her seat.

Unnerved Amelia sat back as the Limo pulled away, heading back to the peace of Wayne Manor. She rubbed the run mascara from under her eyes and shivered as she thought back on what just happened.

The sky was thick with threatening snow and Amelia couldn't shake the uneasy feeling she felt as she pulled through the wrought iron gates of her home.

She felt like she had seen a ghost.

//////

Sarah hurried back to her apartment building, checking over her shoulder that she wasn't being followed. Breathing hard she climbed the stairs to her floor, her high heels clicking on the stone steps.

_Stupid, stupid!_ She scolded herself. She hadn't actually meant Amelia to see her.

Watching Amelia from a safe distance in the store earlier, she had noticed the pale, sudden frantic expression on her older sister's face.

Sarah unlocked her apartment door and hastily locked it after her.

She had seen the unruly two year old make a sudden dash between the Wendy Houses towards the elevator and Sarah had had no time to react. She'd scooped up the wriggling two year old like a naughty cat and quickly deposited her back near Amelia, who by that point was having a near nervous break down.

When their eyes had met, Sarah had gone cold. It was the first time she'd really looked at her sister in over three years. Sarah marvelled, slightly enviously, she was still as elegant and beautiful as ever.

Slipping out of her fur coat, letting it slide to the floor, Sarah examined her own face in the hallway mirror.

Several operations and many hours of pain had resulted in the near perfect image reflected back at her in the mirror. Her eyes had been lifted, her nose straightened. She'd had several collagen injections, one between her eyebrows and two in her lips, giving her a rose bud pout. Her eyebrows were tattooed in place, as was her black eyeliner giving her permanent cat like eyes.

She cocked her head to one side and prodded her perfect, almost air brushed skin, wondering just how much she resembled her Mother now.

"You know if the wind changes, your face'll stay like that!" a laughing voice came from behind her and Sarah cried out as The Joker appeared in the mirror over her shoulder.

She narrowed her eyes at him. "What do I owe this pleasure?" she smirked and he pulled a mock hurt face.

"Well that's not nice, sis," he took her shoulders and pulled her back against him, "Just thought I'd drop in for a little catch up,"

Sarah prised his gloved hands off her narrow shoulders and pushed past him into the living room. "You mean you're checking up on me?"

The Joker followed her. "Am I that obvious? Perhaps I want to see that my little sister is taking care of herself?"

Sarah laughed and waved her hands around her immaculate, beautifully furnished apartment.

"Take a long look," she said sweetly, "Then leave,"

The Joker threw himself onto the sofa. "Quite a place you have here. I could get used to it. Don't suppose there is room for a lodger?"

Sarah raised an eyebrow at him. "Uhh…no,"

He grinned up at her and she noticed how shabby and disheveled he looked. His usual suit, although un coordinated was usually neat and pressed. He looked like he'd been sleeping on the street and his makeup was worn and cracked.

"Where are you staying these days?" she asked and he looked affronted.

"Oh don't you worry your pretty head about _me_ petal," he reassured her with a slow grin, "I have plenty of friends who are more than willing to take me in,"

"Well….tell your friends to hire a cleaner cause your covered in dust!" she sighed, "And you smell…I don't know…weird. You should have a shower,"

He licked his lips and she beckoned him to follow her to the bathroom. Handing him a clean towel she shut the door after him.

Listening at the door, he finally turned the shower on and she hurried to the kitchen. She made him a sandwich and left it outside the door, not knowing why she was suddenly filled with the desire to do good deeds.

When half an hour had passed and he still hadn't emerged she went to the bathroom and saw that the sandwich had disappeared. She frowned noticing that the towel had been dropped in the hallway and her bedroom door was open.

Panic erupted in her, the thought that he was going through her draws making her seethe. But when she pushed the door open she saw that he was in her bed fast asleep. His face was bare and she leaned over him, prising the empty plate out of his hand.

Without that freaky makeup he was quite handsome and she supposed that without the scars and a normal personality, he would have been quite a catch. She couldn't blame Amelia for falling for him like that.

While he slept she got herself ready. Tonight was the night she had been planning for quite a while, it was to be her biggest challenge yet and the prize was the most valuable.

She was also hoping that a certain man in black would turn up. Smearing red lipstick on her mouth she smiled serenely at herself in the mirror before tucking her blond hair into the mask.

Sarah opened the wardrobe and pulled out the suit, smiling to herself. She squeezed her lithe body into its leather confines, the fabric stretching against her skin.

Zipping it up to the neck she didn't hear her brother come into the room behind her.

"Well that's a transformation," he giggled, "Better lay off the cream cakes if you want to keep wearing that!"

Sarah rolled her eyes and looked back at him, startled to see his full makeup back on, the grease of the paint shiny and wet.

She knew she was going to regret what she was about to say.

"You know if your friends ever kick you out….your welcome to stay here,"

He beamed at her. "How sweet….we can have slumber parties, do each others makeup…"

Sarah frowned at him. "Don't be weird,"

"It was a joke,"

"Really? It wasn't that funny," she snapped, wishing suddenly he was gone.

He clapped his hands together. "Mine never are. I can see I've out stayed my welcome, I'll be going now,"

She shrugged and turned back to her reflection, preening in the mirror.

The Joker turned back to her. "Just out of interest. What's the occasion?"

Sarah smiled at him over her shoulder.

"The occasion….lets just say, tonight I'm out to steal more than jewellery. I'm out for a man,"

They locked eyes and he nodded approvingly.

"You be a good girl and be home before eleven," he chuckled, wagging his finger at her.

Sarah watched him leave; not knowing why pleasing him gave her a small spark of satisfaction. She supposed it was because he was her brother and she wanted to make him happy.

Pushing the thoughts of betrayal and guilt from her mind and desperately trying to forget her sister's haunted face, Sarah climbed out of her bedroom window and disappeared into the night.


	7. I don't love you anymore

**Hi everyone. This has been a long, long time coming and I'm so sorry. You've probably all forgotten about this story by now or have moved on, but I hope you do keep reading! As always thanks for any reviews and to all those who added me to their favs, thank you! Let me know what you think and hopefully there will be more on the way.**

**I don't love you anymore**

During the afternoon the rain had fallen, leaving the air crisp and fresh and washing away the last remains of snow, making the pavements below mucky and grey.

Sarah stared blankly down at the streets below, her heart heavy and tired.

It was nearly one am and the stars were out above her as she combed the top of the City Bank building, her breath fogging on the air as she exhaled deeply.

She had made the anonymous call to the police, warning them that 'The Cat' would strike the bank tonight and had waited in the shadows as hundreds of cop cars littered the pavement outside the building, armed officers roaming through the empty hallways.

She had waited and finally they had left, their efforts fruitless. But she knew that somewhere_, he_ was still here and she waited for him to find her.

Sarah danced across the rooftop, cart wheeling gracefully, just to pass the time. The ground was slippery but she was a master of balance and against the night sky she really was a cat. She stretched her back and shivered the air cold against her skin.

Suddenly she stopped and her ears strained to listen. There was someone here.

Sarah closed her eyes and took a deep breath, knowing that he was barely inches away from her. Like her, he was also a master of darkness and knew exactly how to remain hidden. She could feel the heat of his gaze on her and smiled to herself, almost able to feel the tension in his body, the struggle going on inside his head.

She wasn't stupid. She knew the effect that she had on men. Even giant Bats.

She pouted, placing her hands on her hips.

"Are you going to come out? Or are you going to just stare at me all night?" she purred and heard movement behind her.

Turning, she jumped suddenly, not expecting him to be that close behind her. Ignoring the thrumming of her heart she straightened herself and took a good long look at him. It was the first time she had ever been this close to Batman. He was certainly a sight to behold that was certain. Compared to her he was like a giant, with broad muscular shoulders straining beneath that black suit.

She found her gaze moving upwards to his chin and mouth, the only part of him visible and found herself thinking of what it would be like when she kissed him. She shivered and ran her tongue across her lips, cocking her head to one side.

"Well look at you," she breathed, "Finally we meet,"

"Finally," Batman agreed, his voice deep and gravely, "You've done a good job of getting my attention,"

Sarah laughed. "Oh it wasn't all for you Batman, don't flatter yourself," she said, "But a girl does _love _attention,"

He moved closer and playfully she stepped backwards, purposely keeping herself just close enough that he could touch her if he wanted, but far enough so that she could dart away if she had to.

"A girl also loves diamonds but there are other ways of acquiring them," Batman mused.

"You mean by being a good girl and working hard to buy my own things? That's no fun Batman and I like it to be fun. A girl like me could never afford those sorts of jewels anyhow,"

"A girl like you? I don't know any girls like you,"

Sarah smiled. "No I don't expect you do,"

"I know that girls of your kind should be in jail for what you've taken….the turmoil you've caused…"

Her laughter rang in his ears and something struck him as oddly familiar.

"You call it turmoil….I call it chaos. If you're going to be bad then it's more fun to have an audience. People love a good show,"

Batman flinched. There was something about her, striking him again as very strangely familiar. He was torn inside, one with a horrible sinking feeling and the other a strange desire to throw her to the ground and kiss her.

"You look confused Batman," she provoked when he said nothing, "Is it me?"

He lifted his head, realising that he had been staring at her.

"Why did you steal the diamond from Emmanuel's? Why that diamond when you could have had your pick of others worth far more?" he shot at her and she pouted sulkily.

"Do I need a reason? Don't be all angry at me, we were just getting started. I want to get to _know_ you before you try and put me in jail,"

"Why delay things anymore?" Batman answered, moving forward so quickly that Sarah barely had time to react. She danced out of his reach and giggled.

"So you want to skip to the good part?" she laughed breathlessly, "Fine, catch me….if you can!"

Batman watched wide eyed as the woman threw her tiny form over the edge of the building. Gasping he flew to the edge, seeing her trailing down the side quickly on a wire. He heard her thud to the bottom and knew he had wasted enough time, throwing himself over the side, his memory foam cape extending to aide him effortlessly to the ground. He hit the concrete a few yards ahead of her and rolled, instantly on his feet. But those seconds were all she needed to back track, laughing and hurtling back up the alley way.

He heard a crash of glass being broken and looked up in time to see her feet disappearing through a window on ground level. Following her through the window he found himself in what looked like an old abandoned office block. There were still desks and ancient looking computers everywhere, covered in plastic sheeting.

Hearing her heels clicking on the stairs he stopped, waiting patiently in the dark. He could hear the soft thud of her feet above his head and knew she was inches away from him. Straining his ears he pulled a small explosive device from his utility belt and waited. She stopped moving directly above his head and he launched the device into the air, its suction pads gripping the ceiling above him, giving him mere seconds to roll away before the small explosion tore through the floor above. He heard her scream in terror as the floor caved in. He was back on his feet in moments as the black wriggling figure fell thorough the floor and into his outstretched arms.

Sarah glared at him furiously, her suit torn and her face scratched.

"You _arsehole_!" she spat, desperately trying to regain composure and get her hands free. She dug her fingers into his torso and had the satisfaction of seeing him flinch.

"Put those claws away!" he struggled with the writhing woman in his arms.

"You could have killed me," she yelled, not comfortable with the fact that he had foiled her that easily. She had never been caught before and it almost sickened her.

"The explosion wasn't enough to kill anyone," Batman said, tightening his grip, "Just enough to make a really big hole,"

Exhausted from the struggle, Sarah began to panic. She simply could _not _end up in prison. That wasn't on the agenda. She had to get out of here and it seemed that there was only one way out.

With the dust still settling around them, Sarah turned her eyes to his and smiled.

"Well what do you intend to do with me now you have me snared?" she said, her voice taking on a different tone.

Her sudden change in tone threw him and she felt his body stiffen, pressed so closely against hers.

"You need to be punished for your crimes," he said, the nerves creeping into his voice and Sarah knew she had him. He still had her lifted a couple of inches off the floor and she wrapped her legs around his waist easily, coiling them about him like a snake. His eyes widened and she bit her bottom lip seductively.

"Well if anyone is going to punish me, I'd rather it be you," she let the words hang in the air for a few seconds before crashing her red lips against his. She felt his inner struggle and wanted to laugh at his hopelessness, knowing it would be moments before he caved in. Her arms suddenly free and knowing she was enjoying this game a little too much, she wound them around his neck and pulled him closer, feeling his resolve melt and kiss her back with a fury she hadn't expected.

He slammed her against one of the desks but the pain she felt was gone in seconds, all she knew was him drawing her in further, deeper, until she literally had to pull herself out of this haze. She hadn't expected him to react to her so passionately and she hadn't expected to like it.

With a groan she pulled away and grinned up at him.

"Looks like I caught you after all," she murmured before using all the power in her legs to kick off of him, using him like a jump board, she somersaulted and landed on her feet. When he darted for her, she hissed at him and swiped out, catching his mouth with her clawed fingers.

She hated the look of surprise on his face and saw the blood well up from the wound across his mouth. But she had to go. Without looking back she was out of the nearest window and back in the alley way. She ran for what seemed like an eternity, the muscles in her legs screaming with pain. Finally she collapsed in a doorway, her heart racing in her chest like a caged bird. She leaned her head back against the door and let out a long, painful sigh. Her fingers touched her lips tentatively and they felt swollen from his bruising, almost painful kiss. She let her head fall into her hands and knew that the plan had taken an unexpected turn. She had been wrong back in the office.

He had caught her and she had a horrible feeling he wouldn't let go that easily.

////

Amelia shivered in her sleep. A cold draft blew across her bare legs and slowly, almost painfully, she forced her eyes open.

Grabbing her gown that she had thrown at the foot of the bed earlier that evening she quickly huddled inside it and narrowed her eyes at the open window.

"Bruce?" she whispered into the darkness, half knowing that he wasn't home. She had gone to bed alone, normally comforted by the fact that her husband was out doing good, fighting crime. But tonight had been different. He had left without a word after dinner, sullen and distant, barely able to look at her and she suspected that she knew the reason.

It was always the Joker.

Taking a breath, Amelia padded silently across the carpet and pulled the window shut. She peered outside up at the night sky and saw that the darkness was littered with stars. Rubbing her arms for warmth she glanced at the clock, it was past one and he still wasn't home.

Suddenly her breath caught in her throat and she gripped the window pane tightly. She could have sworn that she'd heard something clatter downstairs.

Amelia crept to the desk draw and found the revolver that Bruce had given her years ago. She slipped it into her dressing gown pocket, knowing that Alfred couldn't still be awake at this hour. She had a horrible feeling she knew who her intruder was.

Ignoring the growing dread in the pit of her stomach, she gently twisted the door handle and peered out into the empty hallway.

Placing her hand over the pocket with the gun Amelia crept down the hallway, her bare feet soft on the carpet. She half wanted to call out for Alfred but she had a notion that if the visitor was who she suspected then she would only be putting him in danger. She had been responsible for endangering Alfred once before and it had nearly killed him.

When she passed Libby's room she silently twisted the handle, peeking her head around the door and breathing a sigh of relief. Seeing her fair haired child sleeping soundly in her cot, Amelia closed the door and carried on down the corridor. She rounded the corner and found herself on the grand galleried landing, the marble staircase stretching out before her. As she reached the top step she saw the familiar figure standing at the foot of the stairs.

Automatically drawing in her breath, her hand hovered over the pocket with the gun in. Like he knew she was there watching him, the trespasser turned and stared up at her, something like a smile on his face but he was half hidden in the shadows.

Amelia remembered that figure, that familiar slightly hunched stance, his long dark coat making him appear much larger than he actually was.

"Well," he breathed, his voice straining above a whisper, "Look at you, still as _beautiful _as ever…and a mommy now too,"

Amelia swallowed knowing that the man standing at the bottom of the stairs wasn't the one she had fallen for two years ago. This man could kill her if he chose to.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, her voice trembling, "Can't you just leave us alone?"

He chuckled, a low deep sound that came from his chest. He placed his foot on the bottom step and stepped into the moonlight streaming through the large window.

Amelia saw that his makeup was cracked and dry, black streaks trailing down his face like tangled spider legs. His mouth was that familiar scarlet, painted crudely over a crooked mouth.

"I could…say the same for you," he tapped the side of his head with his gloved finger, "You just _wont_ get out of here, ballerina,"

Amelia snorted. "Am I supposed to be flattered by that?"

He shrugged. "Take it anyway you like….you make me crazy, whether that's a good thing or a bad thing I don't know. I just thought I'd drop in, catch up, you know….say where is Mr Ballerina tonight…."

Amelia suddenly felt very alone and realised that he had taken another step up towards her.

"He's out…you know he's out. You're timing as always is perfect," her voice faltered and he noticed.

He placed his hand in his pocket and drew out a long jagged edge knife that Amelia instantly recognised as the one he'd used to carve the statue in Verona. Her eyes welled up and she looked away.

"So you've come to finally finish the job?" she spat, hate suddenly welling up in her throat, "I'm surprised you waited this long. But I suppose that was all part of the game. You let me be happy, get comfortable. You waited for me to stop constantly looking over my shoulder…and now you're here,"

"Hmm…sucks to be you doesn't it?" he giggled.

He stopped on the tenth step, several more to go before he reached her level. It was plenty of time for her to run and hide somewhere, to grab Libby and bolt them into a room. But she was rooted to the spot, unable to move. Maybe she wanted to finally see this one out. Maybe she was exhausted of being afraid. Amelia's hand lingered over her pocket.

He might kill her this time, but she would shoot him dead before he touched her daughter.

He placed his hands behind his back, staring up at her, black eyes boring into hers.

"We both know the truth Ballerina…you saw this coming a long time ago. You aren't 'happy', you longed for this, you want it to end. You love the misery and the pain….why else would you be married to a man who's hell bent on revenge?"

Amelia felt ice creeping up her neck. "What are you talking about?"

The Joker let out a howl of laughter. "_Please _don't make yourself a fool by denying it! You can't tell me you've missed him sneaking out night after night?"

Amelia closed her eyes, her worst nightmare realised.

"How long have you known?" she whispered.

He cackled. "The night in the alley way....you all but screamed out his name! Do you think I'm that blind?"

Amelia took a deep breath. "You've known the whole time? And you never exposed him?"

"What's the fun in that?" he said drawing the knife back out and letting it glint in the moonlight, she saw the lust for blood in his eyes and her legs weakened.

She wanted to scream, she wanted to break down in tears but she knew that this time she had to see this one through. She had to protect her daughter and now Bruce.

"Tell me if you're so 'happy' then why is your husband spending his nights with another woman?" he grinned up at her in the dark and had the pleasure of seeing her pale, "Or did he keep that from you too? What do you _really _know about Batman?"

"_Stop it_!" Amelia cried, her heart close to breaking, "You've said enough,"

He crossed the gap between them and suddenly he was so close that she could feel his body heat radiating against her. She closed her eyes as he drew his gloved fingers across her jaw.

"I can see you," he whispered in her ear, "I know you,"

"Why are you here?" she pulled away, "To torture me some more? You cant possibly hurt me more than you already have. I'm done with you,"

She opened her eyes and found herself staring into his. He smirked at her.

"You're done with me?" he laughed, "The game doesn't stop just because you say so, ballerina. If the Joker wants some fun then we cant disappoint him,"

Amelia stared at him furiously. "You talk like theres two of you! _Why are you here?"_

He broke into a fit of nervous giggles forcing her further back across the landing. Amelia was seething and kept her hand near the gun in her pocket, her eyes glancing warily at the knife dancing close to her face.

"Well you got me....I suppose I'd better come clean. I was hoping that we could give it another try, see if we could rekindle that magic that we once had?"

He roared with laughter and Amelia's eyes welled up with angry, hurt tears.

"How could you!" she cried and he held up his hands in mock surrender.

"Aw...don't be mad petal!" he pleaded, "Its just that we were so good together....and now we have a kid..."

"Shut up!" Amelia yelled suddenly flying forward and pushing his shoulder so hard that he toppled backwards, landing on the landing. he rolled around the landing, giggling furiously.

"Oh, you should see your face!" he roared, "Its like a picture....you have to accept it ballerina. Nobody gets you like I do!"

"Not any more," she said stepping away and reaching for the gun, pushing it into his face.

He laughed, watching her fingers tremble as she pointed the gun at him.

"Get out of my house!" she snarled through gritted teeth, "You are not going to hurt me or my daughter,"

He pouted moodily and slipped the knife away, holding up his hands. He climbed slowly to his feet.

"Trust you to ruin the game ballerina," he sulked, "But I know you and I know that you won't kill me. You're _crazy_ about me,"

It took all her strength to make herself laugh at him.

"I wasn't crazy, I was in love with you," she gritted her teeth again, "But that's over now. _I don't love you anymore_. Not, _one_, bit!"

He smiled. "Then why did you keep my child?"

Amelia swallowed and prepared herself for the ultimate lie; she leaned closer to him and lowered her voice.

"The night you threw me off the boat…I lost the baby. I'm sorry but that's the truth. The little girl sleeping upstairs isn't _yours_, she belongs to Bruce. And nothing you tell me about my husband will ever change the way I feel about him. I know him and I know what he is. He's a better man than you will ever be,"

Her heart searing in her chest after her tirade, Amelia locked eyes with the clown on the stairs and saw the look in his eyes change. He actually looked confused and to her surprise…he looked hurt. At least she had succeeded in something.

For one second she actually thought he might leave. Before she could let out a cry he seized her wrists and pulled her against him. Grabbing the back of her head he forced her mouth against his and she writhed in agony, his teeth sinking into her bottom lip. She tasted blood and paint, tears streaming down her face from the emotions welling up inside her. His grip on her head relaxed and to her horror she realised that she had betrayed herself and lost herself in the kiss.

When he pulled away, breathless he snarled in her ear.

"You're a good lair ballerina I'll give you that," he let her go and she toppled backwards onto the landing, "But one thing you should know….woman who aren't in love, don't kiss back,"

Amelia covered her mouth with her hands as she watched him retreat back down the stairs. When she heard the front door slam shut she let out a cry and sobbed into her hands, wishing desperately that her husband would come home and that the Joker was wrong.


	8. Last Night Didnt Happen

**Hi everyone. Thanks for all the reviews; it really means a lot that you guys are still reading after my long absence. Special thanks to ber1719, affectionate-sinner, angelika 04 and noface. Anyway hope you like and keep your thoughts coming. xxx**

**Last Night Didn't Happen**

Sitting up in bed, Amelia turned just in time to see her husband getting out of bed, hurriedly pulling on his dressing gown.

She pulled the covers up to her chin, for the first time in two years, looking at him through a stranger's eyes.

He seemed so distant, so quiet. It was like she barely knew him these days. Plus it didn't help that the Joker had thrown doubt into the equation. His laughter still rang in her ears, no matter how hard she tried to block it out.

"Bruce…you're up early," she reached and touched his shoulder. He flinched and Amelia immediately pulled her hand back, embarrassed.

She noticed how he refused to look directly at her.

"I promised I'd take Libs for a walk this morning," he reminded her, his voice low.

Amelia narrowed her eyes at him. "Why won't you look at me?"

He turned reluctantly, knowing that he couldn't pretend forever and he waited for her reaction which was swift to follow. Her eyes widened and she reached for him.

"Your mouth….who did that to you?" suddenly she wished that she hadn't asked, as a blush crept up his neck, making her feel sick to the stomach.

"_If you're so happy, why is your husband spending his nights with another woman?..."_

Pushing the thought away, Amelia looked at the slash across his mouth.

"Does it hurt? You should go to the hospital," she leaned forward and he tried to smile reassuringly, but it turned into a grimace.

"No, its fine," he protested, "It only hurts if I smile, or talk, or laugh…"

Amelia grinned. "You better stay clear of your daughter today,"

He chuckled. "No chance of that. Your supposed to be shopping for your dress today remember? The secret shopping trip that Clarissa Hart can't find out about?"

Amelia sighed. "I can stay here with you,"

Bruce shook his head. "You go, really its fine. I never get Libs all to myself anyhow,"

Amelia leaned forward and kissed his brow, noticing him tense slightly as she did so. It made her want to cry.

It was always the Joker. He always came between them, no matter how hard she tried to protest that their one time relationship was over. Bruce couldn't forget. And now she was terrified that he'd found someone else. This 'Cat' character, whoever she was, had left her mark.

When Bruce had left the room she hurried into the bathroom, glancing warily at herself in the mirror, her dark, hollow eyes staring back at her.

She turned away from the pitiful reflection and turned the shower on, longing to feel warm under its spray. She touched the part of her lip that was still swollen and she winced, feeling the underside of her lip carefully with the tip of her tongue. It was a miracle that Bruce hadn't noticed, but then he'd been so busy trying to conceal his own wound.

Stepping under the shower head, the water thundering against her skin, Amelia closed her eyes.

Had she made the right decision in lying to Bruce about the Joker? If she were in her right mind, she should have told him the minute Bruce had come home. But she didn't feel like she was in her right mind. Everything was such a mess.

The Joker had broken into her home, for the second time. He'd threatened her with a knife. Why the hell was she keeping this from the one man who could protect her?

Amelia leaned her forehead against the cool tiles of the shower cubicle.

"You're an idiot," she whispered, tears welling up in her eyes, "Jack is gone. And he's not coming back,"

When Amelia had tried to sleep the previous night all she could see was the strange look on his face when she had told him that Libby wasn't his daughter. She knew that look, a confused, bewildered flicker in the eyes and then the realisation that she could be right. After all he had done to her and she still couldn't bear to hurt him.

Amelia shook her head and switched off the shower, reaching quickly for the towel. She threw her robe around her shoulders and hurried out of the bedroom, leaving wet footprints behind her.

Dripping wet she ran down the stairs. She knew that something was going on with Bruce and she hated to use her imagination to think what it could be, but he still had to know about this.

She was going to do the right thing even if it meant telling him that the Joker had kissed her. Even if it meant admitting that she still loved Jack. She had Libby now and that was all that mattered.

Alfred was closing the front door when she landed on the bottom step. He raised an eyebrow at her soggy appearance.

"Where's Bruce?" she gasped and he motioned to the door.

"He just left miss….he has taken Libby out for the day,"

"Dam!" Amelia pushed past him, hearing the roar of the Jaguar as it started up in the courtyard.

Amelia flew out of the front door, wincing as her feet hit the sharp gravel.

"Bruce!" she cried, "_Bruce wait_!"

The Jag turned and sped out of the large iron gates, leaving Amelia calling after it. If Bruce heard her, he didn't stop.

/////

Sarah stared down at the remains of her black suit and sighed. It was lucky she'd bought a few to keep her going. Folding it in her hands she tossed it into the bin, trying not to think about how it had become so mangled.

When she'd finally limped through her window last night, she'd laid exhausted on the bed, her body aching and her mind too preoccupied to sleep.

She liked him.

Sarah threw herself into her reading chair, covering her eyes with her hands. This was ridiculous. She liked her sister's husband, who also happened to be Batman.

Why hadn't she ever found him attractive before? She remembered back to when she had been forced to spend time with him back when she'd still lived with Amelia and he was just boring old Bruce.

Cute, but _boring_. And the whole time he had been living this secret life, fighting crime in a black leather suit.

Sarah wondered if Amelia had known back then, who he was. She also wondered if this was what her dear brother had envisioned when he'd forced her into this game.

God why was life so complicated? She had come back here to pick up a few valuables, not a married man!

Sarah closed her eyes and tried to stop thinking about the kiss. She tried to stop imagining him throwing her against the desk, her legs wrapped around his waist. Feeling hot she got up and threw open the French doors, stepping out onto the patio, the breeze in the air making her feel cooler.

Jumping she heard her cell phone ringing and took it out on to the patio, leaning lazily against the balcony as she scrutinized the unknown number.

"Hello?" she said into the phone and rolled her eyes as she heard the familiar chuckle at the other end.

"What do you want now?" she barked, turning to face the grey Gotham skyline.

"Ahh, don't be mean sis," the Joker cackled to himself at the other end of the line, "I was hoping for some gossip that's all. You tell me about your night and I'll tell you about mine?"

Sarah rolled her eyes. "Where are you? You better not be watching me from a window somewhere!"

"That's too much hassle for me kiddo," he said, "I prefer to go direct,"

Gasping, she heard her front door slam behind her and she whirled around to see her brother, dressed in his nightmarish garb, walk straight through her living room. He grinned and closed the lid on his phone and Sarah did the same.

"You'll have to teach me that lock picking thing you do," she said sarcastically, "I've never known someone to be able to just _appear_ the way you do,"

"Really?" he said taking a deep gulp of fresh air and plonking himself down on the wrought iron seat, "I didn't think there was _anything_ I could teach you…after your recent exploits. You're a little pro,"

Sarah folded her arms, noticing that he seemed more edgy than usual. Once again, he looked dishevelled, dusty, like he'd been sleeping in a cardboard box and the thought upset her more than she was comfortable with. His makeup was dry and flaking down his face, the red stain on his lips almost gone and she could see the bumpy scars under the worn paint.

She gave him a tired smile. "You seem to forget that I grew up in Basin City. I learned from all the best men,"

"Hmm," the Joker mused rubbing his chin absently, his tongue feeling the inside of his mouth, "They certainly are the best. Made me the man I am today….so how'd your date go?"

She pushed past him, scowling and he followed her back through to the living room.

"It wasn't a date…and it went…well,"

The Joker grinned. "Well as in you've managed to hook old batsy with those sharp claws?"

When Sarah didn't say anything, he stepped closer and pinched her face painfully between his fingers, forcing her to stare up at him. He was so close that she could smell the dust on his coat, making her nose wrinkle.

"Or…has he hooked you?" he licked his lips, "That's interesting….and naughty!"

Sarah pulled away, her face sore. How was it possible that he just knew _everything_? Had it been written across her face?

"You like him," the Joker folded his arms behind his back, "You _bad _girl,"

Sarah rubbed her eyes. "This isn't why I'm here! I never wanted this to happen,"

He took a stride towards her, grabbed her forcefully by the shoulders and turned her to face a large gilded mirror on the wall.

"Take a good _long_ look at yourself petal," he whispered in her ear, "You may be able to lie to yourself but you can't lie to me! You can stand there and tell me that this isn't about getting revenge on our ballerina. You can even convince yourself that. But why are you really here?"

Sarah struggled against him. "I told you! To take what's mine. It's my right!"

"Oh," he leaned closer, "But sweetheart….its not yours. It's hers. And guess what, so is the Bat,"

Her face flaming red, she stared at his grim refection in the mirror. Then to her horror her eyes suddenly filled with tears. Choking she tried to get a grip on herself, but it was too late and as one hot tear streaked down her face, he noticed.

"Baby!" he wailed turning her around to face him, "What's wrong?"

He pressed her against him and despite feeling totally ridiculous, she relaxed and cried into his shirt front, leaving a big wet stain there.

He hugged her tightly and she felt comforted and odd at the same time. She didn't like her brother, but on some level, this was home for her. And she couldn't deny that they were cut from the same cloth.

When she was done, she straightened up, having to look up at his self satisfied grin. She wiped her eyes.

"So," he brushed back her hair with what she supposed was affection, "Are you going to tell me why you're really here? And don't bother lying to me petal, cos I'll _know_,"

Sarah was angry for letting her guard down, furious that she'd let him in. Crossing her arms across her chest protectively she sat down on her sofa.

"I just wanted a piece of her….my mother," tears welled up again and she screwed up her face in anger.

The Joker nodded silently.

"I got the surgery done too," Sarah touched her face; "I robbed a Jewellery store in India and sold the goods. I went to a doctor in LA and gave him a picture of her. He did the rest. Then I wanted more….I wanted things that belonged to her, her clothes, her jewellery. It wasn't fair that Amelia got to have everything. Do you know what it was like growing up in that shit hole of a city?"

The Joker raised his eyebrows mockingly. "Err, yes. I was born there remember?"

Sarah blushed. "Well….it was worse for me, a girl. If you knew what I had to do to survive…"

"I have a fair idea," the Joker planted himself next to her on the sofa. She couldn't believe she was telling him all this. She hadn't ever told anyone.

"I just wanted….her life," Sarah finished and the Joker patted her shoulder, a little harder than necessary.

"There, there," he giggled and she scowled at him.

"You really don't care do you?" she barked.

"Of course I care," he protested, "But what you should know is that Siren West didn't have that great a life. And she ended up looking not unlike me. Then she killed herself. Pretty grim don't you think?"

Sarah shook her head. "But she had a husband, money and a family. A beautiful home…"

The Joker stood and knelt in front of her, gripping her hands in his gloved ones.

"I see where this is heading," he said, "You don't want Siren's life. No. You want Amelia's life…and her husband,"

Sarah opened her mouth to protest but he motioned her to be quiet.

"Which I have _no_ problem with!" he laughed, "Believe me you can keep the Bat distracted for as long as you like for all I care. You just have to be _honest_ with me,"

Sarah stared at him for a long time, the grim reality that he might actually be right, finally dawning on her.

She didn't want jewels. She wanted a family, a daughter and a husband who would die for her. She wanted a home. That was why she had been following Amelia that day. In her heart she was hiding a furious jealously. She wanted Amelia's life and she wanted Bruce Wayne.

"Hmm, it's good to admit the truth isn't it?" he laughed as if reading her thoughts.

After a while she smiled and he pinched her cheek.

"So, I've been honest with you. Are you going to do the same?" she asked and he stood up, stretching his back.

Her eyes followed him around the room. "Do you want Amelia back?"

"Now there's a question," he smiled, "You know I asked her back last night but she didn't seem to like the idea. Where do you think I went wrong? Should I send flowers?"

Sarah actually found herself laughing. "Maybe the knifes you carry have something to do with it,"

"Could be," he rubbed his chin, "She told me that the girl isn't mine,"

Sarah shook her head. "She's lying. I've seen that kid and well….she sure isn't Bruce's,"

The Joker folded his arms behind his back and began to pace the carpet.

"I have to admit she kind of hurt my feelings," he said thoughtfully, "But dam, I _love_ that woman. She's like heroin, I can't get enough. But like any addiction, you have to _crack_ it eventually,"

Sarah didn't like the sound of that. It seemed like there were two people inside his head, each fighting for dominance. Jack loved Amelia but the Joker wanted to reign.

"What do you mean crack it?" she asked warily, "What are you planning on doing?"

He didn't seem to be listening and it worried her. He looked up at the ceiling deep in thought.

"There is _something_ about Amelia…." he mused, "She has me hooked and I can't let go. Killing her just wont cut it. She'll always be there. I tried it remember? I threw her off that ship and she still survived. There is something about her…no matter what you do to her, she can still love and forgive…I saw that last night,"

Sarah shivered. "Ok…So what are you going to do? Are you going to kill her?"

The Joker turned and stared at the younger woman on the sofa. He pulled his lips back into a grimace.

"I told you, killing her wont work," he couldn't suppress a laugh, "I have to break her first. No, petal, believe me that the only way to get rid of Amelia West….is to destroy her,"

Sarah swallowed. "What do you have in mind?"

He turned and faced her, staring down at her with his black, bottomless eyes.

"That part is easy," he whispered, "All I have to do, is break her heart,"


	9. Chapter 9

Hello everyone,

I'm so sorry that this has taken so long and if you logged on expecting an update then once again I apologise.

Firstly, the reason it has taken me so long to update at all is because I'm in the middle of planning a wedding and the stress of doing that and trying to work and run a home has finally taken its toll. I'm not abandoning this story because despite everything that has happened I have really loved doing it and meeting all of you!!

A reader on this site informed me that my first story 'Uninvited' had been stolen and was on another site. I checked it out and it was true!! I'm hopping mad as you can imagine that this girl has been copying and pasting all my work and claiming it was her own. I noticed that she was half way through 'The Girl in question' and this is why the story is no longer available to read.

For those of you who may have been in the middle of reading this I'm so sorry and be assured that I'm going to put it somewhere else. I will let you know when I can.

If you are the plagiarist and you are reading this (I know who you are) then good luck trying to finish the story cos you're not getting your dirty hands on anymore of my work!

As for 'All Good Things' it will remain where it is for now but as soon as I get some time to finish it I will move it to a different site. I figured that the last part in the trilogy is useless to the thief if they haven't got the end of the second story.

Once again I can't apologise enough and I would like to thank the following readers for their support.

Persephoniii

Buffy Sparrow

Affectionate-sinner

Ber1719

New life-so new name

Reeniecat

Kerayzie

Angelika04

Noface22

R.L Keane

RoseDelion

Nlech16

And most of all XAngel-from-the snowX

Hope you guys aren't too mad with me, I expect repercussions but I'm sure you can understand.

Hope very much to see you all in the future,

Littlebatgirl

xxxxx


	10. The Amazing Mr J

**Hello, everyone!!! My goodness it has been a long time. The wedding is all over now and I have finally been able to concentrate on this again. If there is anyone out there who still cares and is still following this story then I thank you very much. It has been on my mind a long time and I can assure you that the updates will come more regularly now. But I don't blame you if you're fed up of waiting and have forgotten all about me. If there is anyone new to this story then please let me know what you think. Once again sorry for the delay and hope you still enjoy it. **

**I own nothing but Amelia.**

**The Amazing Mr J**

When the boy opened his eyes, the pain that soared through him was almost unbearable.

_They should have just killed me, _he thought, rolling over on the dirt floor. Grit scraped across his face. He let out an agonising sigh, bile rising in his throat as he remembered his welcome home party.

Saliva gathered in the back of his throat and he spat it out, scorching pain rushing to the wounds in his face as he did so.

He turned over and closed his eyes, listening to the sounds around him. He could hear heavy, probably expensive shoes on the wooden floor above, he could just about make out the stale smell of tobacco. They had left him down here, below their club, to think about what a bad boy he'd been.

It wasn't his fault, despite his iron will; tears blurred the corners of his eyes. He'd left Basin City to follow his father to Gotham. Someone had to keep an eye on him; someone had to stop him when he got crazy. The boy hadn't known what would happen there. He hadn't dreamed that his father would end up dead, by his own hand. He hadn't dreamed that this would be waiting for him when he came back, tail between his legs, pleading with his father's old employers for help.

He'd asked for help and this is what they gave him.

Tentatively, the boy ran his tongue lightly along the fresh lacerations, wincing as the pain ran through him, making him squeeze his eyes shut.

He remembered Falcone's face when he had told him what he'd done.

"You killed you're father?" he whispered, "You _killed _your own father?"

The boy had begged for forgiveness.

"You don't understand…" he'd begged, "He was insane….he'd already hurt this woman, cut her face open….then he was going to hurt….someone else.."

Even at that moment, facing a butchering, he couldn't bring himself to speak Amelia's name.

Falcone kicked the younger boy away when he came nearer.

"You killed one of our own," he hissed at him, "I should hang you up by your entrails for what you've done. You know the number one rule…never turn your back on your family!"

The boy was crying. "It was a mistake,"

"You're right, it was," Falcone agreed, "I hope whoever this 'someone' was, they were worth the effort?"

The older man laughed and the shrillness sliced through him like a knife. It was a laugh that he would never forget.

"Tell me Jackie…" Falcone chuckled, "You like a good laugh don't you?"

When they held him down, Jack squeezed his eyes shut, wishing for death. Instead he saw her face, half lit in the light of the ballroom, smiling at him and beckoning him to come and dance with her. Even she was lost to him now, a distant memory. The sadness of it made him want to choke.

When he saw one of Falcone's men leering over him with a kitchen knife, he passed out, only to be rudely awakened by the sound of his own face splitting in two, and the whole time, he could hear that ugly, shrill laugh, ringing in his ears.

He shouldn't have come home. He should have stayed put in Gotham. But how could he have lived in a place and never see her again? How could he live there knowing she was only minutes away from him, and she didn't even remember his face?

He remembered trying to speak to her that day at the Carousel, after months of working up the courage to approach her and she just stared at him, like he was a stranger.

It had broken his heart.

They had left him in this cellar, alone and freezing cold. He could feel the damp from the ground beneath him sinking through his clothes.

Suddenly there was a noise above and what sounded like footsteps coming down the stairs. Jack scrambled into a sitting position, wiping the wetness from the corners of his eyes with his dirty shirt sleeve.

He didn't want _them_ to see him crying.

The door banged open and the boy's heart hammered in his chest. A man came in with Falcone. He was tall and slim, wearing a long leather coat and a broad rimmed hat. He was carrying a doctor's bag and Jack felt the sickness rising up inside his gullet.

It was 'The Doctor'. Jack had seen him many times over the years. He was the clean up guy, the man his father had used after some of his jobs. He had come to the house one time; Jack remembered swallowing, when his mother had lost a baby.

The man had a sombre, hollow look in his steel grey eyes and Jack wondered what awful things he'd seen.

"How are you feeling Jackie boy?" Falcone laughed cruelly, "What cat got your tongue….never mind, the doc here is going to fix up that pretty face of yours, good as new…well…make you look presentable anyhow…."

The Doctor knelt on the floor beside Jack and pinched his chin between his fingers, looking at the wound closely.

Jack heard him take a deep gulp of air, and then he threw Falcone a glance over his shoulder.

"You can leave us now," the Doctor said, "This shouldn't take long,"

Falcone shoved his hands in his pockets, lingering longer than was necessary. Finally he left and Jack listened to his footsteps disappearing up the stairs.

He watched the Doctor fumbling in his bag. He brought out a cloth and a glass bottle of liquid and Jack stared at it.

"What's that for?" he motioned with his eyes to the bottle, the slits in his face straining, what little healing had begun, tearing away. He blinked away tears of pain and the doctor sighed.

"Its chloroform son," he whispered, "It's probably best you're not awake when we do this….I don't have any anatheistic,"

Jack shook his head. "No," he mumbled. Saliva once again gathered up in his mouth and he spit it out numbly. The doctor pulled his brows together in a frown.

"Its going to hurt son," he insisted, "It's going to hurt a _lot_,"

"I can take it," Jack mumbled, "I can,"

The Doctor looked at him for a long time and then finally shrugged his shoulders in defeat. "You'll have to keep still," he said.

Jack lay back on the dirt floor, his eyes rolling back to the ceiling. He thought of elephants and clowns, of joining the circus. He imagined riding an elephant bareback and walking the trapeze.

When the needle pierced through his already tender flesh, a white hot flash of pain tore through him, but he controlled his body, fresh tears escaping the sides of his eyes, streaming down into his hair. His feet scraped across the floor, unable to keep them still.

"Hold on, boy," the man above him said, "Just hold on,"

The second time the needle threaded back through, a wail escaped his parted lips but he quickly turned it into a chuckle, causing the doctor to stare down at him grimly.

Jack melted into his own imagination, where he could see only twinkling lights and no blood, where he could hear laughter instead of his own guttural sounds of agony.

Jack melted away and saw the ballerina dancing in the flames before him and he knew before long, he would join her there.

////////

Sarah threw open the bedroom door and stared wide eyed at the sight before her.

The man in the bed was thrashing around in the covers, twisting himself in the white sheets. She swallowed, seeing his contorted face; his eyes squeezed shut in agony.

His body was stiff, and as she ran into the room she screamed his name.

"Jack! _Jack_!" she seized his shoulders, trying to restrain him with what little strength she had compared to him, "_Jack wake up_!"

Suddenly his eyes flew open, and a noise that could only be described as a growl escaped his clenched teeth.

He grabbed her by the throat and wrestled her to the bed, so shocked was she that she had no time to react. She choked out his name as he brought a knife to her temple.

"_Jack no_!" she screamed, squirming beneath him, his face dangerously close to hers.

He blinked at her, as if seeing her for the first time.

"Sarah…" he whispered and she breathed a huge sigh of relief and annoyance.

"Get the _hell_ off!" she cried and the moment he shifted his weight, she sprang to her feet, her heart still hammering in her chest like a terrified bird caught in a cage.

"What happened?" he ran his hands through his greasy hair.

Sarah straightened her white shirt, seeing the red and black paint stains on it.

"Great, now I have to change," she hissed through clenched teeth.

"Oh, I'm sorry….its not like you have somewhere to be now is it?" Jack retorted, pulling his filthy blue shirt from the pile he'd left on the floor, "You work nights remember?"

Sarah straightened her shiny blonde locks that she had meticulously combed into a bun at the nape of her neck.

"Actually I have a job interview," she shot at him, "So I was hoping you'd make yourself scarce while I'm gone?"

"Hmm," he chuckled, buttoning up the front of his shirt, "Worried I'll go through your draws and find your secret sex toys?"

She put her hand on her hips and stared down at him. "Don't be disgusting. So, you want to talk about it?"

He lifted his head and gave her a lopsided grin. "Do I want to talk about what?"

She raised her eyebrows, wondering why on earth she bothered with him. This was the fourth day he'd stayed with her after their little 'heart to heart' and she was still no closer to finding out anything about him. This was the second time he'd woken up, drenched in sweat, her bed sheets in disarray. It was obvious he'd been having nightmares but he was tight lipped about the whole thing.

Also his 'plan' to ruin Amelia West seemed to have gone on hold for the meantime. He talked about destroying her, of breaking her heart but Sarah had no idea of how he was planning on doing this. She heard him sometimes at night, pacing the floor in the bedroom, having a conversation with someone who wasn't there. It was like there were two people inside his head, each fighting for dominance.

Sarah hated to admit it, but he still frightened her.

"So….a job interview?" he probed as he pulled on his neck tie. Sarah cracked open a window, the room smelled like a locker room.

"Yes," she replied curtly, "I'm taking your plan into my own hands. I'm going after Bruce Wayne. There was an advert for a PA to his PA and I'm going to get that job,"

"I like it," he mused, licking his lips, "But aren't you worried someone will recognise you?"

Sarah laughed. "My own sister didn't even recognise me! I'm a changed woman since he saw me last, so don't you worry your pretty head about me. When were you planning on kicking your own plan into action?"

Jack caught her tone and chuckled. "Am I a bad house guest? I'm hurt,"

Sarah picked up his pants from the floor and chucked them to him.

"Oh don't get me wrong, I've _loved_ having this bonding time with you," she said, her voice laced with sarcasm, "But your boots are ruining my cream carpet and you leave black paint on the towels. Not to mention that I nearly got my throat slashed just now,"

He shrugged his shoulders, doing up his belt as he stood. "Point taken petal. I'll get out of your hair, I promise. I just need to do one thing first,"

Sarah sighed. "And what would that be?"

"I need a suit," he said meeting her confused stare, "I've got a party to go to,"

/////

Clarissa Hart was lost in table plans and name cards. She brushed back a strand of hair from her eyes. She was irritated and a headache was beginning to form at her temples.

She had been stuck in the conference room of the Doncaster Hotel for nearly four hours and the hostess of the charity event still hadn't shown up. She wouldn't put it past Amelia Wayne to forget. She should never have been put in charge and Clarissa was half glad that if this event was a screw up, it wouldn't be her head on the chopping block.

Amelia had seemed lost and distracted the last time they had met up to discuss the plans and now the event was only a day away, and the younger woman had shown no real signs of dedication or commitment.

There was a knock at the door and one of the receptionists poked her head around the oak door.

"Uh…sorry to disturb you Mrs Hart but the Magician you hired for the event is here to talk to you?" the young red head smiled at her and Clarissa threw her a confused stare.

"I didn't hire a magician…how tacky…tell him…"

The receptionist turned away as whoever it was stood behind her began mumbling something to her. She turned back to Clarissa red faced.

"Sorry Mrs Hart. He says he was hired by Mrs Wayne? And he says he has already been paid and would just like to discuss plans with you?"

Clarissa's face flamed with indignation. She'd already paid him! That was so typical of someone like Amelia. What on earth possessed her to hire a magician? This was a gala event not a children's party. Next thing she would be hiring clowns.

"Fine," she snapped, rubbing her aching temples, "Send him in,"

The receptionist disappeared behind the door and then the man came in. Clarissa plastered her fake smile in place as he sauntered into the room. His gait was slightly hunched and she was instantly put off by his longish, tangled hair that seemed to touch the collar of the stiff white shirt he was wearing.

Clarissa stood, smoothing her red pencil skirt, holding out her hand to him.

"I apologise for the confusion," she smiled as he turned to face her, the words catching in her throat, "I…didn't know…we'd hired a magician,"

The man locked his hollow eyes on hers and she felt an icy chill run through her.

She knew him, she was positive. Where had she seen those eyes before? She immediately noticed that he had facial scarring, crooked lines running either sides of his mouth.

He dragged out a chair and leaned forward to take her hand in his gloved one. He shook it a little too firmly and Clarissa stepped back.

"So…" she faltered, "Mrs Wayne has already informed you of the details of our event…I apologise for not knowing you were coming,"

She realised that she had already apologised once and closed her mouth. What was wrong with her? The way he was staring at her made her nervous.

"Surprise," he chuckled and she laughed nervously.

"So what can we expect from you at the event?" Clarissa asked, sitting back down in her chair and he did the same.

"Tricks," he said in a low voice, "Magic Tricks,"

Clarissa nodded, swallowing. "Uh-huh, so I take it Mrs Wayne checked your references? Pardon my asking it's just that usually I book all the entertainment for our gala dinners, I'm sure you understand it's a prestigious occasion"

The man had taken a long thin pencil from the inside of his jacket and began twirling it around on the table. He seemed distracted and didn't seem to be listening to her, which normally would have annoyed her but she was too disturbed by him to notice.

Dimly she wondered if the hotel receptionist was still nearby. The conference room was in the basement of the hotel and Clarissa realised that she was quite alone down here. She fought down her prickly nerves as he looked up at her absently.

"References?" he laughed shrilly, revealing a row of slightly yellowed teeth, "Oh Mrs Wayne knows my work well. Why don't cha call her and ask her?"

Clarissa shook her head. "I'm sure that won't be necessary,"

"Mrs Wayne knows me well," he continued in a sing song voice that was slightly disturbing, "We go way back,"

Clarissa cleared her throat. "Oh, so your friends?"

"Not exactly,"

"Well…anyhow," feeling slightly better she carried on, "The event begins at eight so I take it your going to mingle with the ladies while they have their welcome drinks?"

He pouted and nodded vigoursly. "Mingling? _Yes_. I have cards,"

Clarissa smiled. "Excellent!" she exclaimed a little too enthusiastically, "Card tricks are always a good warm up….what's _that_?"

She nearly choked as the man sat opposite her produced a knife from his inside pocket. He caught her eyes and laughed at her. Then he pretended to drive the knife through his own hand and to her relief it slid back inside the hilt.

"It's a fake silly!" he grinned at her again and she laughed nervously.

"That's very good, but I'm not sure that knife tricks will be appropriate to a gala dinner,"

"Oh, come on! Everyone loves a bit of knife throwing?" he tested her and she clenched her teeth.

"Knife _throwing_, uh, no…Mr? I'm sorry I didn't catch your name?"

He spread his hands in the air. "Mr J," he announced, "The _amazing_ Mr J,"

Clarissa clicked her finger nails on the table top. "Right," she continued on, "So seeing as knife throwing is offs the agenda, is there anything else you do well?"

"How about sawing you in half?" he ran his tongue along his top row of teeth and Clarissa head alarm bells going off in her head. _Get out, get out now!_

"How about screwing you to the floor?" he leaned across the desk and Clarissa pushed back in her seat.

"Who are you?" tears blurred her vision, "Get out of here!"

The Joker stood up and perched on the edge of the desk, swinging his legs over the edge he edged forward until he was practically straddling the older woman. She was staring up at him in complete terror.

"I told you get out!" she yelled, "Don't you come any closer!"

He leaned so closer she could see the flaky remains of black paint that clung to his eyelashes. He grinned that demonic smile at her and grabbed the back of her head roughly bringing her closer.

"Now you know… I've remembered something else I do really well," he whispered, his mouth grazing her ear and she wimperered, "I'm really good at making people…_disappear,_"


	11. Denial

**Hi and thanks as usual to all of you who have read and reviewed!! You're great. This is a bit of a long one, so sorry, hope you don't get bored and give up.**

**Denial**

Amelia was surprised when she heard Bruce's footsteps thudding lightly down the stairs that morning. He'd had a long night, she'd felt him slip into bed beside her at three in the morning, but half in a daze she had just rolled over and gone back to sleep.

When he appeared around the kitchen door in his dressing gown, she threw him her usual winning smile and gave him a hug.

He laughed. "What was that for?"

She frowned. "It's just been so crazy lately. I feel like I've barely seen you,"

Amelia turned away, not wanting to see that guilty look creep into his eyes. The Joker's words ringing in her ears.

"_Tell me…if you're so happy, why is you're husband spending his nights with another woman?"_

She rattled around making him some tea, feeling his eyes on her back. Unspoken words hung between them. She knew what he was thinking. It was possible that after all their years of friendship; she could practically read his mind.

"I've been thinking about the Joker," Bruce said. With her back still turned, she heard him scrape a stool across the tiled floor and take a seat at the breakfast bar.

"Really?" she said in a low voice, "He's all I think about,"

She turned and handed him a mug of tea. She saw that look of jealously spring into his eyes, his brow furrowed.

Amelia took his hand. "I'm frightened Bruce," she said, "I'm scared that he can get to me so easily. The other night he just, _walked _right in. And you're Batman for God sake! I'm scared he's just going to keep coming and that the next time he does…"

Bruce gripped her hand tightly. "I've spoken to Gordon. He has his men in cars dotted around the perimeter of Wayne Manor,"

Amelia had told Bruce all about The Joker's unpleasant visit when he'd brought Libby home from their walk. She had told him that The Joker knew he was Batman, but she had cut out the part where he had kissed her. Bruce didn't deserve to be hurt anymore, besides, she promised herself that would _not_ be happening again.

Amelia sighed. "I'm scared that he'll try to take Libby,"

"I'll kill him before he touches her, or you. You know that!"

Do I? Amelia wanted to ask. He'd been so aloof recently, so distracted. He avoided her if he possibly could. What was happening to them? Amelia felt as if her happy little world was crumbling before her eyes.

"Bruce," she breathed, rubbing her thumb lightly across his knuckles, "What's happening to us? How did everything go so wrong?"

He let go of her hand and stared blankly down at his mug of tea, the steam rising up in his face.

"He'll always be between us Amelia," he said gently, "No matter what I do, he's always there. The man you love may be gone now, but I can still see him sometimes in your eyes. And when I look at Libby, I see him….I _hate _myself for it, but I see him!"

Amelia's eyes filled up with tears. "Bruce don't…!"

"I'm sorry but its true….and I'm tired. I'm so _tired _of pretending that it doesn't hurt. I love you and Libby more than anything and I tried so hard to pretend that it was all ok and that we were a family,"

"We _are_ a family!" Amelia snapped, gripping his hands tightly, "I'm you're wife! And you said two years ago that this wouldn't happen. You promised that you _wouldn't _do this!"

Bruce rubbed his eyes, his shoulders sloping in defeat. This was the conversation that he had preyed that they would never have. And now it was happening.

Amelia wiped the hot, stinging tears out of her eyes. She walked away and stood at the window, sickness rising inside her. Wrapping her arms around herself for comfort, she shivered.

"Why now?" she whispered, "Why do you suddenly feel like this now?"

"Because he's not dead!" Bruce snapped and she whirled around, her face flaming.

"I beg to differ!" she shot at him, "The man he was is _gone_. You didn't see him the other night Bruce. He was terrifying,"

Bruce stared dully back at her, knowing that it was his own jealously that was driving them into this argument.

"The next time he comes to me….and I _know_ he will, that will be the end of me. He'll do it Bruce. I saw the look in his eyes. He would have done it the other night if I hadn't fought him off. And the next time he comes, I don't know if I'll have the strength in me to fight back. Maybe I should just let him do it and then you'll finally be rid of him?"

Bruce was on his feet in an instant. He grabbed her shoulders roughly.

"What the hell are you saying?" he cried, "What about everything we've built together? What about Libby?"

Amelia burst into hurt, angry tears. "I just want him to go away…and I'd do anything to make that happen,"

Bruce's face softened. "You know that's not what he wants. You know that wouldn't work,"

Amelia shook her head. "I don't have the strength anymore Bruce. He's hurt me everyway possible and I _defended_ him. I forgave him. I had his child. Maybe if I was gone he'd be satisfied?"

She stepped away from her husband, wiping her running nose, embarrassed at the state she'd gotten herself into.

"He killed Jenny Maddle. He drove that poor doctor into insanity. He killed _Rachel_," she sobbed, "And I forgave him. Bruce, what kind of a _monster_ am I that I could do that?"

Bruce held her to him tightly and she cried into his dressing gown.

"You're not a monster. Don't you get it? This is what he _can't_ understand, Amelia. He can't understand you're capacity to love. He wants to strip you bare of everything that's good in you. He doesn't _want_ to kill you. He just wants you to be like him,"

Amelia looked up at him, red eyed and swollen.

She swallowed. "Bruce you can't keep pushing me away. You have to know that I love you,"

He held her to him again and rocked her slowly. Guilt crept up on him again like a giant shadow lurking in the corner of his mind. He loved Amelia, probably more than she would ever know.

But when he closed his eyes at night, he felt those red lips on his. He felt her entangling her legs about him like a snake. He couldn't stop thinking about her.

"Amelia….I have to tell you something.." he murmured into her hair and she half smiled through her tears.

She had guessed that this moment was coming. At least then it would all be out in the air and they could move on, together as a family.

There was an abrupt knock on the door and the pair of them broke apart.

They heard Alfred's footsteps in the hall and the familiar groan of the front door swinging open.

"Commissioner Gordon," Alfred greeted him cheerily, "Won't you come in?"

"Thank you," they heard the commissioner's weary voice in the hallway, "Are Mr and Mrs Wayne at home?"

Bruce tightened his gown and Amelia linked her fingers through his, each throwing the other worried glances before stepping out into the hallway.

The commissioner looked grey, his eyes red rimmed and exhausted. He had tracked in some snow on his boots and Amelia noted that he appeared not to have slept, his clothes wrinkled.

Bruce held out his hand curtly to the older man and Gordon shook it lightly. He turned to Amelia and gave her hand an affectionate squeeze.

"I'm sorry to trouble you both so early," he said, "But something has happened that I need to talk to you about,"

Amelia rubbed her cold arms. "Oh god!" she murmured, "Wont you come into the family room? Its freezing out here…Alfred would you..?"

"I'll bring the tea, Mrs Wayne," he nodded before disappearing into the kitchen.

They settled into the family room and Bruce wound his arm around Amelia's waist, pulling him tighter.

Gordon sat in the arm chair opposite them.

"Mrs Wayne, when was the last time you spoke to or saw Clarissa Hart?"

Amelia's stomach lurched.

"Oh God, Clarissa…" she stammered, "What's happened?"

Gordon sighed. "She's missing,"

Bruce rubbed Amelia's shoulder. Alfred appeared with the tea tray, setting it down on the coffee table in front of them, but none of them felt like drinking.

"I was supposed to meet her yesterday!" Amelia suddenly realised, her heart lurching in her throat, "I was supposed to go to the Doncaster….Oh God, I forgot…"

Gordon nodded gravely. "Well that's hardly surprising what with all that's happened here in the last few days. What were you meeting for?"

"Clarissa has been helping me with the 'Women of Gotham' charity event. We do it every year. We were going to the hotel just to do some final planning, place cards and things…but I forgot all about it,"

Amelia hung her head, ashamed that she could be so wrapped up in her own life to forget all about Clarissa. She felt tears blur her eyes again but she fought them down, annoyed. She was sick of crying over the Joker.

"Well it seems that was the last place that anyone saw her," Gordon said and Bruce cleared his throat.

"You mean she disappeared from the hotel?" he probed and Gordon rubbed his temples.

"Well, it's more the case that she disappeared _inside_ the hotel. The receptionist was the second from last person to see her. We questioned her last night and she insisted that she brought down the magician that you hired, Mrs Wayne. He was there just to go over final plans and the receptionist left him down there with her,"

"Wait!" Amelia held out a hand, "Magician? That _I _hired?"

Gordon continued. "Apparently there was some confusion at first, as the receptionist said that Mrs Hart seemed confused about that as well. But the Magician insisted to her that _you_ had booked him and he had already been paid. So Clarissa saw him,"

Amelia was aware of both Bruce and Gordon staring at her.

She was ringing her hands, an awful creeping sensation crawling up her back.

"I didn't hire a Magician," she said quietly.

Gordon sighed deeply. "Well, he was the last person to see her,"

Bruce leaned forward on the sofa. "What about this receptionist? Did she see him leave the hotel?"

Gordon shook his head. "Its possible she was on a break when she left…but the description she gave of the man is a little troubling. She said he had some distinctive facial scaring,"

Amelia covered her mouth with her hands. "The Joker," she said simply.

Gordon sat back in his seat and folded his hands in his lap.

"Quite frankly, I'm sure the pair of you are as sick and tired of these masked psychopaths as I am," he said dryly, "But I think we have to discuss the possibility that the Joker and this new Cat character are working together,"

Amelia blinked as if coming out of a dream.

"The Cat? Couldn't it be just a coincidence?" she asked and Bruce made a noise in his throat next to her.

"Well the Cat has been targeting artefacts that belonged to or were connected to your family, notably your Mother. As for the Joker….well we know the family history there. We have to acknowledge that they could be working together,"

Amelia snorted. "Great! A tag team,"

She hadn't noticed Bruce shifting in his seat beside her, suddenly uncomfortable with where this conversation was headed.

"So…" Gordon probed, "When was the last time you actually spoke with Clarissa Hart?"

Amelia shook her head in dismay. "It was to arrange that stupid meeting that I went and forgot, a few days ago! God if only I had been there. He'll have killed her. I can't believe this is happening again,"

Gordon held out his hands. "We don't know anything yet, Mrs Wayne,"

After Gordon had left Amelia stayed on the sofa for a long time, unable to move. Not only was she faced with organising the charity event alone, Clarissa was most probably dead. And it was her fault. Someone else had died by the Joker's hands because she was too cowardly to do what was right. She should have pulled the trigger that night and ended his miserable life.

But even if she had, she would still hear him laughing at her.

Numbly she wandered the house, wondering where Bruce had flown off to. Alfred told her that he had gone to Wayne Enterprises in the city for a couple of hours but had promised to be back before dinner. Libby was upstairs still napping. Amelia made a few phone calls. It was too late to cancel the Gala dinner, besides Clarissa wouldn't have wanted it to be stopped. She phoned the opera house and informed them that it was all going ahead. After a few hours of mindless organising and telephone calls, Amelia remembered that she had to write a few cheques for the caterers.

She opened the door to Bruce's office and plundered his desk draw for her cheque book. Irritated that she could never find anything in his office, knowing that she needed one of her own, she reached into the back of the draw and pulled out a manila envelope. Emptying the contents on the desk she smiled fondly. They were a collection of Polaroid snaps from when she and Sarah had been living together in their Gotham City apartment. Sarah had been sixteen then, and a stocky, hard faced girl, so filled with a need to protect herself. Amelia stared down at the photos and gazed at Sarah's cynical, furrowed expression, a look of doubt forever on her face. It had taken a year for Amelia to break that tough exterior.

Amelia ran her thumb over Sarah's photo, her heart aching just a little for those days. It had hurt her so much when Sarah had left, with no word. A few post cards here and there over the years and then it had all stopped. Her thumb paused over Sarah's mouth, only her eyes visible.

The realisation hit her like a thunder bolt and Amelia collapsed in Bruce's leather chair.

Those eyes. Those eyes only ringed with heavy black liner. Red lips, like scarlet rose petals.

Amelia swallowed the bile rising up in her throat. Her hands shook as she reached for the phone.

Hastily she tapped in the number.

"Wayne Enterprises," the curt voice said at the other end.

"Bruce Wayne!" Amelia stammered, "I need to talk to Bruce Wayne,"

///////

"Is there anything else I can get you Mr Wayne?" Robert said before shutting the door to Bruce's office. Bruce stared up at him absently, like he'd forgotten that his PA was even there.

"Uh…sorry Rob, I'm fine," Bruce waved his hand and gave his worried looking assistant a casual smile.

Robert nodded, trying to ignore the fact that his Boss had come in on his day off and had done nothing for two hours except stare down at an empty desk, occasionally leaving the office for coffee.

But over the last five years that Robert Chang had worked for him, he'd come to learn that you had to just run with it when it came to Mr Wayne. He had lost count of the amount of times he'd turned up to work only to find Mr Wayne asleep in his office. It had been a lot better since he'd married Amelia West; his employer had seemed more settled, if that was even possible. But the last few weeks it had all started up again, the abrupt visits, the late nights and impossibly early mornings. Bruce seemed jittery and a bit lost.

"Sir, I forgot to mention that I've been interviewing for my PA," Robert peeked his head back around the door, "It's been a bit of a nightmare actually,"

"Oh?" Bruce tried to force interest, "Whys that?"

Robert stepped back inside and folded his arms.

"Well," he laughed, "Most of the candidates are young, attractive women that secretly want to meet you,"

Bruce had to laugh at that. "Its nice to know I still have it,"

"Oh you _have_ believe me," Robert laughed, blushed crimson forgetting himself, "Uh, well; there is one that stood out above the crowd. She's filling in some forms now but I'd like to get your seal of approval?"

Bruce shrugged. "I trust you're judgement, but sure send her in. What's her name?"

"Selina," Robert answered, "Selina Kyle. Great, I'll send her right in,"

Bruce shifted around uncomfortably in his leather chair. He always felt so out of sorts in the office and retrieved some papers from his 'in' folder to make him look as if he'd been doing something other than staring into space.

The truth was he'd been so close to telling Amelia the truth about his altercation with 'The Cat' and he'd lost the nerve, and that appalled him. Amelia had opened her soul to him today, she'd told him everything and he was still lying to her.

The truth was even after his rant earlier, he couldn't get the cat out of his head. It was like she was in his blood, polluting what little good there was left in him. She had left her mark, in more ways than one.

He touched his lip absently, the gash there, now healing nicely.

The door opened and Bruce stood up, straightening his jacket. Behind Robert, hid a young blonde woman and only when his PA moved aside, did the realisation hit him.

The girl stepped forward, her red lips curling into a knowing smile. Her eyes were the purest, forest green and Bruce almost choked when she reached out her hand to him.

"Mr Wayne, this is Selina Kyle, my new PA," he introduced them and Bruce held out his hand to Selina.

"Hi, Mr Wayne," Selina leaned across his desk and took his hand firmly, "It's so nice to meet you, at last!"

Their hands touched and Bruce felt something electric flow up his wrist. His pulse was pounding and he realised dimly, that he had broken into a sweat. Abruptly she pulled her hand away, realising she'd lingered too long. Suddenly she couldn't even look at him and Robert noticed.

Bruce couldn't tear his eyes from her face. He was reminded of the night in the abandoned office block and fought the images out of his mind.

"Well it was good that you two met," Robert said awkwardly. You didn't work for Bruce Wayne for five years and not recognise when he found a woman attractive.

"Selina, I'll show you around," Robert took her shoulders and ushered her out of the office, "Maybe you two can catch up another time,"

Selina tossed Bruce a look over her shoulder, her blonde mane tumbling down her back.

"It was nice…to meet you!" Bruce called, finally finding his voice as the door swung shut.

He fell back in his chair. This was bad. This was very, _very_ bad.

Suddenly his office phone was ringing and in a daze, he answered it.

"Bruce!" Amelia cried at the other end, "Bruce are you there?"

"Uh, yes," he shook himself, "Hi darling are you Ok?"

"No," she cried, her voice faltering, "Bruce…Sarah is back in Gotham. This is going to sound crazy….but I think she's the Cat,"

Bruce swallowed.

"It doesn't sound crazy at all," he said, "She was just in my office,"

//////

Sarah escaped up onto the roof of Wayne Towers, glad to finally be alone. It had taken some work to loose her new boss but she'd told Robert that she needed some fresh air. She covered her eyes with her hands and sobbed.

This wasn't what she had wanted. She wrapped her arms around her tiny form, against the chill of the late afternoon breeze. The sky was thick with snow and she shivered.

What a mess. She had thought she was so clever, impressing her big brother, marching into Wayne Towers, like she owned the place.

Sarah knew how to seduce. She had spent a year watching Amelia in action when they lived together. It was amazing to watch and half the time Sarah knew that Amelia had no idea she was doing it. Amelia was a natural, graced with a charming smile and an effortless beauty that Sarah had never possessed. Sarah had had to buy her face.

Living with Amelia, Sarah had watched her closely. The way she laughed, tilted her head, the way she held your gaze. It was like an art form and Sarah had copied it marvellously. She'd known she would get the job at Wayne Enterprises.

She had thought that she was oh, so clever and charming, snaking her way in.

But then the shock of actually seeing Bruce had sent her reeling. The realisation of what she was doing sickened her. She was falling for him.

She was planning on tearing apart a family and destroying the one person who had ever shown her any kindness.

Wiping her eyes and looking out at the dull Gotham skyline, she realised something else.

She just couldn't stop herself.


	12. Ghosts

**Ghosts**

_Amelia heard the soft tinkling music and through the haze she thought she heard footsteps on the stairs._

_A child was laughing. Fear seizing her by the throat, Amelia opened her eyes wide, her heart straining against her rib cage as she flew out of bed. She could feel the sweat growing icy cold on the skin of her back, as she ran bare foot down the hallway. Libby's bedroom door was wide open and her cot was empty._

_Fighting down sickness, Amelia heard that soft, childlike music again and it reminded her of the music box she owned as a child. The noise was drifting down the stairs and she ran towards it._

_Libby laughed again and Amelia froze at the top of the stairs, looking down into the dark chasm of the hallway below. There was a figure there._

_It turned and Amelia felt her legs weaken. _

_The clown was over six feet tall, red curly hair poking out from his white, bald head. He grinned up at her, revealing sharp, pointed teeth. Raising his blackened eyes to hers, he let out a shrill laugh, the sound sending icy chills up her spine and causing her stomach to lurch. Libby was gone._

_Amelia's mouth tried to form words but her fear had frozen her and all she could do was stare down at the terrifying site before her._

_The clown cocked his head and extended a hand towards her, his long black nails raking through the air._

"_Pretty ballerina…." He sang, letting his shoulders rise as he laughed._

_Amelia knew she should move, she willed her legs to work but they seemed dead. Tears sprung from her eyes as the creature began to advance up the stairs._

"_Jack…" she whispered, "Jack…is that you?"_

_The clown locked eyes with her and let his tongue run across his fat bottom lip._

"_I'm coming to get you…" he hissed and began to run up the stairs towards her._

Amelia bolted up right and to her shock tumbled off of the sofa and onto the rug below. Wiping her eyes and willing her heart to slow she looked around her and let out a sigh of relief.

She raked her fingers through her hair and realised that it was plastered to her head from sweat.

"Mrs Wayne?" a familiar voice was talking to her from above, "Amelia…are you alright?"

Amelia blinked. Her throat was sore and dry and she rubbed the small of her back where she had fallen. Two hands gripped under her arms and pulled her back onto the sofa.

"Did you have a nightmare?" it was Alfred that had been talking to her, she realised now, as finally the haze had begun to clear. She was waking up properly.

"Yes….it was awful," she closed her eyes and fought the images of the clown on the stairs racing towards her, giggling manically.

Alfred sat down beside her and pressed a glass of water into her hand. The coolness of the glass on her skin was soothing. She was burning and fanned herself with her free hand.

"It's hardly surprising you're having bad dreams," he said softly, "Do you want to talk about it?"

Amelia squeezed her eyes shut. "Uh, no," she said, "Thank you Alfred but I just want to forget it,"

"Must have been awful,"

"It was,"

They sat in silence for a moment and she noticed the concerned look in his eyes. That was the way most people looked at her these days, like they were terrified she was going to break, snap in two like a pencil.

"Where's Libby?" she asked suddenly and Alfred patted her hand.

"Its alright, she's been napping upstairs for the last two hours," he said, "But I thought you two could have dinner together before the Gala tonight? I don't think you'll be eating much with all the running around you'll be doing,"

"No, probably not," she pressed herself back against the sofa, "Has there been any word from Gordon?"

Alfred shook his head. "Afraid not. But he did say he would meet you at the dinner didn't he? I'm sure the whole of the Gotham Police force will be stationed around that opera house tonight,"

Amelia sighed. "It should have been cancelled! What with Clarissa still missing…the Joker and Sarah…. the _Cat_, targeting me. I have a bad feeling Alfred. Something is going to happen,"

Alfred reached out and took the younger woman's cold hand in his. He had grown so fond of her over the years, almost to love her like a daughter.

"Batman won't let anything happen to you….and nor will I,"

Amelia tried to smile at him but it was a forced grimace.

"I don't care about me," she said, "Let them come and break me in half. I'm done with hiding from him,"

Alfred watched her again with that tense, nervous look in his eyes. He got up slowly, reaching out to stroke her blonde hair, sadness rising inside him, as his hand hovered there but did not touch her.

This family was his life. She had become his life and he was scared she was just giving up so easily.

He opened his mouth to speak the words closest to his heart but knew it was inappropriate. He was only the butler after all. Leaving her alone on the sofa, staring into space, he wandered back to the kitchen to prepare dinner.

Bustling around in the kitchen, he found the chopping board and began to wipe it down with a cloth, when suddenly the tears sprang into his eyes. His body shook but he controlled it, his grip tightening on the knife he was holding.

Someone had to stop the madness in the Wayne house. Someone had to destroy the Joker, and if it meant giving his own life, he swore it would be him.

////

Amelia closed the book softly, placing it on the night stand and gazed down at the cot where her two year old had fallen into a deep sleep. She reached out and prized the soft toy dog that Libby so loved out of her little hands and nestled it in beside her, under the covers.

Libby was wilful and strong and had fought sleep like a little soldier but with a full tummy and a warm bed, there was only so much fight in her. Amelia kissed the top of her child's head, wanting nothing more at this moment just to stay here and protect her.

When she slept, she looked like him the most. There was a dreamlike, contented look on her face, like she was lost in her own little world and that was the time Amelia always saw Jack in her.

Watching the soft, rise and fall of Libby's sleeping form, Amelia stood from the chair and closed the door of the nursery behind her, her heart wrenching in the chest.

She leaned against the closed door.

"_I'm coming to get you…"_

Placing a hand on her chest, trying to steady herself she wandered back down to the safety of her bedroom.

Amelia's gown for the Gala was a deep, royal blue satin that clung to her hips then flared out at the base in a fishtail. She piled up her blonde hair in a tight chignon and applied her makeup, softly. When she was done, she gazed blankly back at her reflection, wondering if somewhere out there her sister was doing the same.

She thought back to the moment she had locked eyes with the heavily made up woman in Rumens and her own stupidity hit her between the eyes. How could she have not have realised? The younger woman was almost a mirror image of their once adored mother. Sarah had obviously gone to a lot of trouble to make herself look that way. Amelia shook her head sadly. Sarah just didn't know. She had made herself look like a woman that was a ghost now, someone who haunted Amelia's childhood memories. Siren West died the night Harold Napier walked into their lives, armed with a carving knife. What he had left behind was a shadow of a woman, a disturbed, obsessed spirit that couldn't live with what she had become. Amelia spent much of her teen years, sleeping uncomfortably in hospital waiting rooms, filled with a sense of dread. Hoping, preying that this time, one of the countless operations would have worked and that her Mother would find the peace that she so craved.

Sarah just didn't see that. She was blinded, only seeing the comfort and luxury Amelia had grown up in. Amelia had wanted to give Sarah that life, she had so tried to make her happy but she had thrown it back in her face.

_And now she wants what is mine,_ Amelia thought, a lump clogging her throat, _she wants Bruce._

Slicking a pale pink lip gloss over her mouth, Amelia willed herself to be strong. It was coming and there was nothing she could do about it. She had to face both Sarah and Jack and she had to live through it, for Libby if nothing else. The question was, would Bruce be by her side when it happened?

The door behind her swung open and she jolted, the breeze sharp across her bare back. She stared at the reflection hovering in the doorway, the man encased in black, his enormous shadow looming across the floor. His sad eyes met hers.

It wasn't often that Amelia saw her husband dressed in his work outfit, but when she did, she couldn't suppress the shiver that ran over her. He was an intimidating sight to behold.

He stepped across the threshold and walked towards her, her pulse quickening as he laid a hand, heavily on her shoulder.

This was what Sarah wanted; this was the man she'd fallen for. Maybe there was a part of Bruce that, Amelia would never really connect with, his dark alter ego. Maybe that was the part that so craved the companionship of someone who really understood him? Amelia watched his face, tight with worry, his lips pressed together thinly.

She didn't know him anymore.

"Gordon's men are stationed at every exit of that opera house," Batman said, his voice low, "There are cameras everywhere. No one will get in or out of that place without us knowing about it,"

_You don't know Jack_, Amelia thought but didn't say it out loud; _you don't know him at all._

Amelia closed her eyes. Something was going to happen tonight. She felt like she was going to meet her executioner.

"Are you ready?" Bruce asked over her shoulder.

Amelia opened her eyes and looked at him.

"I'm ready," she whispered, "But are you?"

////

"Are you ready?" Sarah asked the Joker. He was standing on her balcony, hands firmly behind his back, staring out at the dark, twinkling Gotham sky line. He'd been out there a while, his mind lost in memories and Sarah had overheard him chattering away to himself again.

She stood behind him, her black suit clinging to her tightly and he cast a wry glance over his shoulder. His shoulders hunched against the cold, his greasy locks curled at the back of his neck, he threw her a painted smile.

Now was the time to speak, Sarah thought dimly. She could stop all this now; she could run away from him. All she had to do was say no.

Her hand curled around the hilt of the knife tucked into her utility belt.

"Jack-Joker…"

He turned and stared at her. "Yes?"

Her mouth formed the words but no sound would come. In a moment, he'd seized her shoulders tightly; bringing her so close she could smell the fresh grease paint on his skin.

"_Yes_?" he hissed and she shook.

"Nothing," she whispered.

"Are you having second thoughts petal?" he smiled, "You suddenly grown a heart in that cold body?"

She leaned away from him. "I don't know….give me a minute…."

"We don't have a minute sweets," his words curled around her heart and froze it in its place, "You are _this _close to taking the Bat, to getting what you've always dreamed of. Everything you've done, everything you've _worked_ for has brought you to this moment. Is now _really _the time for second thoughts?"

Sarah gazed up at him. This wasn't her brother talking. This was the monster that dwelled in his heart.

"But Jack….what you're asking me to do….Jack she's your _daughter_,"

He gave her one final shake, before releasing her, the force driving her back into the wall. It hurt for only seconds and she was back on her feet.

He grabbed his large purple overcoat from the back of the chair and threw it across his shoulders.

"What do you want more than anything else in the world? _Hmm?_ You want her gone, out of the way, don't you? I've paved the way forward for you; I planted the seed to drive a wedge between them. It's _working._ Their marriage is a fake, it's a shame and it always has been. Bruce Wayne is yours for the taking. You can have everything you want,"

Sarah folded her arms and looked away from his grinning face.

"I wont hurt that girl," she said, "You can't either,"

He giggled. "Who said I wanted to hurt her?"

Sarah grabbed his arm tightly, with a force he hadn't been expecting.

"You have to promise me _Jack_. Promise you _won't_ hurt that girl,"

Roughly he yanked his arm away. "All I want is to tear the halo off Amelia West's head. To bring her down to my level, to prove that under that beauty is an ugly, needy and desperate woman that sucks the good out of everyone she touches,"

Sarah shook her head. She at times, loathed her perfect older sister, but even she didn't believe _that_.

"Why are you looking at me like that petal?" he waved his hands in the air.

"Because I don't understand you," she said simply, "I don't understand why you seem to hate her so much,"

The Joker looked down at his feet, a chuckle bubbling up in his throat.

"Hate her? Oh, no, no. No I don't hate her,"

Sarah sighed, rubbing her tired eyes. Somewhere out there, Amelia was probably tucking her child into bed, no idea of the night that awaited her. Did she really deserve this?

"Then…why?" Sarah probed, "Why all this? Why the obsession?"

He clapped his hands together in front of her face, making her jump.

"Don't cha just hate it sis that she has that overgrown Bat fawning all over her? That how…if she screams someone always comes running….someone always there to save her? That was _me_ once. A long time ago,"

He was walking towards her and instinctively she backed away, noticing the blade that had suddenly appeared in his hand. He reached out a hand, pinching her face between his fingers. Pressed against the stone wall, Sarah whimpered and closed her eyes, the cool touch of metal against her temple. He squeezed her face hard and she opened her eyes wide, locking with his black gaze.

"Yes that was me. Young and stupid. I saved her. I killed my own father, for her. Look at my face, if you can,"

Sarah was instantly drawn to the viscous scaring that marred his skin.

"You loved her," she whispered, "You really loved her didn't you?"

"Do you know what they did to me when I went back? Do you wanna know how they held me down and spilt my face open? Do you wanna know how _hard_ they laughed?"

Sarah's eyes closed. He dug the knife into her skin and she gasped, feeling a trickle of blood run down her cheek and across her lips.

"Stop it," she whispered, "I'll do what you want,"

"Oh, I know you will, petal," he growled, a low rumble through his gritted teeth, "But perhaps you should know the truth about me? Maybe you want to hear about how they left me in a cellar and then sent their butcher down to sew me up? And maybe you want to know how the whole time that was happening to me all I thought about was her, _her_ face and the fact that she didn't even know my name? All I had done….all I had lost….and _she didn't even know my name!"_

Sarah closed her hand around his that held the knife to her face.

"I understand," she whispered, "You don't have to say anymore,"

Her heart frantic, he pushed away from her, leaving her trembling before him. He paced the balcony manically, running his hands through his greasy mane of hair.

He was insane, Sarah decided at that moment. God she had been so stupid, believing that he had a plan. He had no plan! One thing was plain to her; he was still in love with Amelia. This whole thing was about her, about how he wanted to crush her, to bring her to his level, to destroy her soul. He didn't want to kill her; he just wanted her for himself.

He was lost and he was fighting a war inside his own head. Jack was the boy and the Joker was the monster.

"Come on," Sarah held out a hand to him, "We have somewhere to be don't we?"

He stared at her for a moment, clearly shaken by his own admissions. He had never spoken about those days out loud. He had never told anyone the real story of his scars.

Sarah led the way out of her apartment, dabbing at the shallow wound on her own face, feeling his hollow eyes boring into her back. She opened up the living room window, preparing to step out onto the fire escape.

"Wait…" he called as she halted.

He went to the bedroom he'd been using and yanked the door open, seconds later emerging with a large, black liner that was disturbingly body sized. It looked heavy as he carried it fireman style over his shoulder.

Sarah was wide eyed. "What is _that_?"

He grinned. "Don't cha mean 'who'?"

She swallowed. "Is that a _body_?" she cried, "Jack…what the hell?"

He had brought a body into her home? Sickness welled up inside her. This hadn't been part of the plan. God what had she done?

Hooking her leg over the window frame and out into the fresh, night air, she ignored the sickening thud as the body bag hit the fire escape stairs. On the ground, he hoisted it once again over his shoulder.

"So…" he said turning to her in the darkened alley way, "You know you're part in the plan?"

Sarah nodded in agreement. She was part of a murder; there was no going back now. If she was caught, there would be nothing left for her. "Jack..."

"_Joker_!" he snapped with a ferocity she hadn't expected.

"Joker. _Sorry._ Who is _that?_"

He winked at her. "She's my date, the invite did say 'plus one'. Oh and I hope you don't mind but she had nothing special to wear so I kind of borrowed…."

Sarah held up her hands. "I don't want to know. God I think I'm going to throw up!"

He laughed manically and gave her cheek a pinch.

"Ahh _of course_ you do petal. You're not a killer. You're a conniving, devious little thief but you're not a killer. Like me," he leaned forward and kissed her face roughly and ruffled her hair with his free hand in what she supposed was affection.

"Your stomach isn't suited for murder my dear," he said before turning into the darkness of the alley way, "but it suits me just fine!"

Sarah watched his slumped, overloaded form disappear down the alley way and into the night. Her heart lurched in her chest.

Everything that was good inside her was going to be erased tonight, she realised with a heavy heart. She was becoming as black hearted and dead inside as he was. But then maybe that was what the Joker had wanted from the beginning?

He'd said to her before that he wanted his family back together. The trouble was he wanted them to be as soulless as he was. And the scary thing was, he was close to winning.


	13. Beautiful Monster

**Hi guys. Thanks once again to all that have read and reviewed! It really means a lot to me. Just wanted to say sorry if you have been getting alerts about 'The Girl in Question' chapters being put back on. Finally decided to get on with it and hope that the plagiarist doesn't strike again! This was meant to be a short one, but it turned out to be longer and I apologise for leaving it with a bit of a cliffy! Don't be too mad at me. The next one is coming, I promise. Cheers again. I own nothing but Amelia. Oh and Libby too. He hee. xx**

**Beautiful Monster**

Feather boas, diamond earrings and beaded evening gowns twinkled under the light of the crystal chandelier that hung in the Gotham Opera house. Amelia watched the guests arriving from the galleried balcony above, her heart hammering nervously in her chest.

The whole place was filled with the hum of chattering women, all comparing gowns, smiling sweetly at one another and then whispering about each other when their backs were turned. Amelia wanted to feel proud of herself, of this grand glittering event that she had organised, an event that would be on the front page of the Gotham Tribune tomorrow morning. But with a heavy heart, she knew it was Clarissa she had to thank. Despite the older woman being a bit of a tyrant, she got things done and until Amelia had come along, she had been the sole organiser of the charity events. Amelia made a mental note to mention Clarissa in her speech, that their prayers were with her family at this turbulent time.

"Excuse me Mrs Wayne?" a timid female voice came from behind her and Amelia jumped in shock, not having heard the girl approach.

_Wake up Amelia_; she scolded herself, giving the frightened looking girl a bright smile.

"I'm sorry to bother you but we seem to have a little problem…."

Amelia swallowed. "Yes?"

"Well….we've misplaced the table cards…"

Amelia groaned inwardly but forced a smile. "Right well, everyone's seat number is printed on the guest list next to their name. Just make sure they know what table their on as they enter the banqueting hall, I'm sure they can work out the rest,"

_Thank goodness for Clarissa's organisation skills_, Amelia thought.

The girl's face went red. "Yes…well…the trouble is we don't seem to have the guest list either,"

Amelia's eyes darkened. "What you lost that as well? I gave it to you an hour ago!"

"It's gone," the girl replied, her shoulders rising up to her ears as if in preparation for a scolding.

Amelia began to pace the gallery, her fish tail dress swirling around her, the taffeta making a crunching noise across the polished floor.

"But where is it? I put everything in the back office. The table cards were there, so was the guest list. Someone must have moved it?"

"I'm so sorry Mrs Wayne, I asked everyone before coming to you. I didn't want to worry you needlessly. Buts it's vanished. I can't explain it, I feel terrible,"

_Vanished. _The word hung in the air and Amelia felt chills creeping up her arms.

"Its Ok," she said to the girl finally, "What's your name?"

"Sally," the girl breathed in fear.

"Look Sally, it's very important that we try and find a copy of that list. Otherwise, anyone can get into this event without us knowing it," she leaned across the railing and pointed at the bouncer in a tuxedo on the door. Sally peered over her shoulder.

"See that guy?" Sally nodded, "He's not a doorman, he's a police officer,"

Sally's eyes widened. "A police officer?"

"I'm sure you heard the news of Clarissa Hart's disappearance. This event has now become a high priority target for the Joker,"

The colour drained out of the younger girl's face and Amelia patted her arm.

"Its Ok," she reassured her, "Nothing will happen if we're vigilant. Go to that man and tell him what's happened and then come and find me. I need to get a copy of that guest list before we start the dinner. Tell the catering staff to make more canapés and get them out fast. Bring out more champagne. There is going to be a little delay,"

Sally nodded hurriedly. "Have you got the guest list on email? You can use the computer out the back office if you need to?"

Amelia's eyes lit up. "That's great, I'll go now!"

Amelia held up her gown and trotted down the grand stair case, descending into the masses of bejewelled women below, the heady scent of Dior and Chanel hitting her as she smiled sweetly and air kissed, until making a speedy exit out of the foyer.

It was quiet in the back passages of the opera house, the long, narrow corridors stretching out before her, nothing but the sound of her heels clicking on stone floor as she walked hurriedly along. She shivered, not wanting to think on how the Guest List had suddenly vanished. The thought that Jack could be here somewhere, stalking the corridors made her feel extremely uneasy. Finally reaching the admin offices she breathed a sigh of relief, switching on all the overhead florescent tube lights, they hummed as they whirred into action. Picking one of the desks, Amelia sat down and switched on the computer, tapping her heels impatiently as it took an age to come to life. After what seemed like an eternity, Amelia logged onto her email account, preying that she didn't delete the guest list that Clarissa had sent her all those months ago. Triumphantly she found it and pressed print, breathing more easily as the six page list was spat out of the machine behind her. As she went to log of her email she caught site of an unopened message that had just appeared in her inbox, the sender was titled, _**the amazing mrJ**_.

Curious, Amelia clicked on it and then leaned back in her seat, wishing that she hadn't.

**Look behind you, ballerina.**

**Love Mr J**

Her stomach lurching, she turned in her seat and looked behind her. There was no body there. Amelia didn't even know what she expected, maybe a six foot clown with teeth to come jumping up from behind one of the desks?

She reached for the guest list, fresh from the printer, when she saw the purple and orange box placed beside it. It was only small and wrapped with a curly orange bow, the site of it made her think back to the time the Joker had sent her a book wrapped in a similar way.

Gingerly she picked up the box and pulled the ribbon off. She shook it. It was as light as a feather but there was something inside, something that sounded like it was broken into little pieces. Breathing hard she pulled of the lid and tipped the contents out on the desk. A note floated out and Amelia caught it mid air.

Looking down at the contents of the box, her heart froze in her chest, her mouth opened to call out for help, but all that came out was a choked gurgling sound. Tears blurred her vision as she fled from the room, terrified and angry at the same time, her heels clattering over the stone floor as she ran.

She darted back through the hallway, desperately looking down the corridors for some evidence of the staff she had hired, but to her horror, she seemed completely alone.

Dizziness overcame her and she slammed her back against the wall thinking she might actually be sick, when all of a sudden she heard one of the doors behind her slam shut, the sound making her leap to her feet. She could almost hear him laughing.

Black mascara running down her face, making her eyes sting, she began to run again, but nearly screamed when two strong arms caught her mid air.

"Mrs Wayne…_Mrs Wayne_!" the man pinned her arms to her sides as she tried to run away. Amelia blinked up at the face that owned that kind, familiar voice and she cried in relief.

"Oh thank god its you!" she wailed crying into Gordon's shirt front, "I thought…oh God, he's here. You have to get everyone out!"

Awkwardly, Gordon patted her back, his hand colliding with the bare skin there and immediately snatched his hand away.

"What's happened? Tell me slowly,"

Amelia sobbed; not caring that she'd left a huge mascara stain on his shirt. She couldn't get that image out of her head. When she had emptied the contents of the box onto the desk, what had fallen out were ten, bloody red fingernails.

All the note had said was **'With Love, Clarissa xx'**.

////

Amelia gingerly took the tumbler of brandy that Gordon handed her, she sipped it and it scorched her gullet.

"You've had quite a shock," he leaned across and patted her shoulder, "But we've combed every inch of these offices. If the Joker was here, he's gone now,"

Amelia rubbed her eyes. "Or he's hiding,"

Gordon nodded. "Or he's hiding," he echoed her.

Amelia placed the tumbler on the desk beside her. "You should make everyone leave. It's not safe. If he's here, it's not safe,"

Gordon regarded her thoughtfully and let out a long sigh.

"When he's around, no place in this city is safe. I learnt that a long time ago,"

Amelia stared up at him bewildered. "But what if he has a bomb…or he kills someone else? We can't seriously go ahead with this dinner!"

Gordon knelt on the ground in front of her.

"Look at it this way," he began softly. Amelia always felt amazed at what a calming influence he had, she always felt so safe around him. "The Joker has been dying to make a spectacle of himself for a while now. The place is surrounded by armed officers. We don't want to deny him his big debut, do we?"

Amelia scowled at him, suddenly annoyed. "You mean, we're bait? We're just going to wait and see what happens? I couldn't live with myself if anything did happen,"

Gordon took both her freezing hands in his warm ones.

"That clown isn't get out of this building alive, I _promise_ you that!" his insistence did nothing to quell the sickness in her stomach, "This is our chance to finally be rid of him!"

They both jumped as someone crashed through the office door. Gordon jumped to his feet, letting Amelia's hands fall into her lap, an awkward, guilty look on his face. Sally stared at them both, horrified by Amelia's wrecked makeup.

"Mrs Wayne…some of the guests have been asking about dinner and the chef is getting edgy about the food. Did you find the guest list?"

Sighing deeply, thinking of all the dozens of women out there, impatiently waiting to be fed, Amelia handed over the crumpled list, which she'd screwed up in her hand from fright.

Sally stared down at it and then back at Amelia. "Is everything ok…?"

"Its fine Miss," Gordon answered for her, shoving his hands in his pockets, "You better get those ladies to their seats!"

Sally looked at Amelia for confirmation and weakly, reluctantly Amelia nodded in agreement. When the younger girl had hurried from the room, Amelia stared up into the weary face of the commissioner.

"I hope you know what you're doing," she said. He took her hand again and helped her to her feet. He rubbed her shoulder with affection and showed her to the door.

"Go and fix you're makeup and get out there and shine like the star I know you are! Don't let him get to you," Gordon said, opening the door for her, "We've got him Mrs Wayne. He won't get out of this building alive,"

Amelia tried to smile and noticed the black inky stain on his shirt.

"Sorry about that!" she said and he laughed it off.

"It's Ok. It's not everyday a beautiful woman falls into my arms!" he choked back nervous laughter, blushing as he closed the door behind them.

"The show must go on, Mrs Wayne. The show must go on," his parting words rang in her ears as she headed off to the bathroom, followed by one of his officers.

_Not unless he kills me first,_ she thought miserably.

////

The Cat stared down at the lifeless body at her feet. The blood was pooling across the stone floor. Bile rose up in her throat and she pushed away the sick feeling, turning her head, no longer wanting to look at the site before her.

Sarah wished that the kid would stop crying. All she could hear was the sound of her choked, muffled sobs. This must be what agony sounded like, she thought.

She paced the marble floor, the sound of her heels clicking across the polished stone echoing around her. She bit down on her lip so hard it bled.

The sound of his skull hitting the floor came back to her, the gut wrenching crack as it split on the stone. Sarah blinked back, terrified tears. God she was still crying!

"Quiet," the woman roared and the little girl recoiled in terror, covering her eyes with her hands.

It had all been so easy. She'd combed the impressive building with ease, slipping into the child's bedroom without a sound. She'd watched the little girl sleep for a few minutes before taking her up in her arms. She didn't even stir.

But Sarah hadn't seen him sleeping in the chair in the corner. She hadn't bargained for the old man to wake up, his sleepy eyes meeting hers with a growing realisation. He reached for the gun that had lay across his lap.

"_You_," he hissed, "What are _you _doing here?"

Sarah had bolted through the door, the child pressed tightly in her arms. She was out in the corridor like a shadow and sped along the hall, hearing him running behind her.

"Wait don't do this!" the old man begged, his voice tired.

Panic had leapt into her throat, reaching the top of the stair case. She jumped the over the banister and it the marble floor below with a thud, pain exploding in one of her legs. The girl rolled free of her grip and the silence of the manor was broken by the her screams of surprise.

"Libby!" he was on the top step unable to jump, suddenly so angry with his age. He faltered down the stairs, "_Libby_,"

He stumbled and the gun flew from his hands, clattering dangerously down the stone steps and landing at Sarah's feet.

Wincing in pain she reached for the gun, scrambling to her feet. He stopped on the middle stair.

"Sarah, _please_ how can you do this?" he whispered, "She's just a girl,"

Sarah squeezed her eyes shut. "Don't talk to me….don't even look at me!"

"But I am looking at you," his voice was softer now, trying to calm her jagged nerves, "This isn't _you_. Don't do this to your family….to Amelia,"

Sarah gritted her teeth. _If you only knew the things I'd done. _

"Has he put you up to this? The Joker?" the older man asked, his voice shaking, "This is what he does Sarah. He destroys everything he touches,"

_I've already done a pretty good job of that on my own._

"Look!" Sarah hissed at him, aware that the girl was crying heartily in the corner, "Just let me walk out of here. I can't get caught now….just let us leave,"

Alfred smiled sadly. "You know I can't do that,"

Sarah shook with anger. "I'll shoot you!" she cried and he nodded.

"You'll have to," he said, "But I know you and even if you end up killing me you'll do the right thing. You won't take her,"

Sarah's hands began to tremble on the gun and she lifted it, aiming it squarely at his chest.

"_You don't know anything about me!"_ she screamed.

Alfred held up his hands. "The only monster here is the Joker. You can make things right,"

_No you're wrong. I'm the monster._

Suddenly the older man had begun to walk towards her. Sarah swallowed.

"Stop! Stay where you are…."

Her hands shook on the gun. The crack slit the air like thunder and for a moment Sarah thought that the sound had been inside her head. Then she looked up and saw the old man stumble forward. Their eyes met and Sarah knew that she would never forget the surprised, shocked look on his face. He really had believed she wasn't capable of such an act.

Sarah's mouth fell open, her eyes not leaving his slumped form.

Now standing here in the darkness of the hall way, she stared down at him, her eyes blank and cold. It was too late for her now. No one could save her. Not even the goodhearted Amelia. She was dead inside.

Crossing the hall on her injured leg she reached for the telephone. She dialled the number in a daze.

"911" the voice cut through her and for a moment she couldn't speak.

_It was a mistake_ she wanted to scream.

"Hello? 911," the voice encouraged, "Is anyone there?"

"Please come," Sarah whispered, "Please come. I've killed someone,"


	14. My Black Little Soul

**Thank you to snicker212, ber1719, nlech16, affectionate-sinner and buffysparrow for their support!! You're great guys! Also thanks to those others who have taken the time to review and add me to their favs! Cheers xx**

**My Black Little Soul**

A hush of silence washed over the banqueting hall as the young, blonde woman dressed in royal blue satin, stepped up onto the stage. She smiled nervously and tapped her microphone, before clearing her throat.

"Uh, good evening ladies," Amelia said, her voice quavering slightly, her face burning from the heat of over a hundred eyes on her, "Good evening. I hope you are having a wonderful time so far,"

An appreciative murmur went around the room and Amelia swallowed, her nerves dissipating slightly.

"I'm so grateful…and honoured you could come tonight, to help celebrate this wonderful charity and the fantastic work it does in Gotham City. If you haven't met me already, I'm Amelia Wayne and the president of 'Women of Gotham',"

There was a little round of applause and Amelia smiled gracefully. She stared out into the crowd, half expecting to see a white and red painted face staring back at her, but to her relief and comfort she met Gordon's eyes. He smiled at her reassuringly.

"We have quite a night planned for you tonight, ladies," Amelia continued, "We have some excellent entertainment from the ballet of this fine Opera House you're sitting in. I think you'll agree it's quite a venue,"

Again there was another round of applause and Amelia noticed another Officer appear at Gordon's side, speaking quietly into his ear. She saw Gordon's face change and her stomach lurched. He shot her a quick glance and then hurriedly followed the officer off the floor. She swallowed, her heart fluttering nervously.

"But before we begin celebrating I want to say a few words about a real hero that tonight we have been denied the company of. Clarissa Hart went missing a few days ago and I know you'll all join me in wishing her family all our love and best wishes at this terrible time. Clarissa has been organising the Women of Gotham events for many years and over the last two years has been a huge help and support to me. Everything you see here tonight from the exquisite table arrangements to the menu is all a result of Clarissa's hard work and I know you share my feelings when I say at this time we are thinking of her and preying that she is alright. So ladies, in a moment dinner will be served and then we will have a short presentation on some of the fantastic things that have been happening with the charity this year. Thank you and enjoy you're evening,"

Amelia smiled tightly, hurrying down the steps. She avoided the eyes of some of the guests as she rushed through the hall, darting between tables, saying a quick hello to some of them that called out to her.

She flew through the large double doors just as the catering staff entered with hot plates and silver serving trays, brimming with steaming, filled plates.

Something was boiling inside her and she felt that something was terribly wrong. She spotted Gordon in the foyer, deep in conversation on his cell. He saw her coming towards him and abruptly ended his conversation.

"Mrs Wayne…" he held out his hands as she stumbled towards him, she was trembling all over.

"What's going on?" she blurted out frantically, "I saw you leave the hall and then…"

He gave her a thin smile. "It's fine. Its _fine_!" he ushered her over to one of the gold chaises that were dotted all around the foyer and forced her to sit.

"But you left…"

"I had a phone call," Gordon began, taking one of her hands, "There was a break in at Wayne Manor, but you're husband is there now,"

Amelia's hands flew to her mouth. "Libby, oh God!"

"Your daughter is fine…everyone is fine. The good news is we've caught The Cat,"

Amelia let her head fall forward into her hands, her elbows propped on her knees. She let out a sigh of relief.

"She was there for Libby," she said, "God; I should never have gone ahead with this dinner. I shouldn't have left her. She was going to kidnap my daughter. Why are they doing this to us?"

Gordon sighed. "It's a good question Mrs Wayne. But at least we have one of the main suspects now. She won't be climbing the walls of Gotham City for a long time to come,"

"I need to speak to Bruce…" she cried suddenly, "Please can I talk to him?"

Gordon felt around in his pocket and handed her his cell phone. "I'll be in the back office when you're done, but my officer isn't far away. He'll stay close,"

Amelia nodded and watched him shuffle away. Frantically she dialled in Bruce's cell.

It rang for what seemed like an eternity and finally he picked up.

"_Amelia_?" he said urgently, "Are you Ok?"

Amelia was so relived to hear his voice that tears welled up in her eyes.

"Bruce I'm Ok….Libby, is she…?"

"She's Ok, Amelia," Bruce replied, "A few scratches and bruises but nothing she will ever remember. It was a close call,"

The thought of her daughter being taken away from her, the thought that Sarah could have hurt her, made a sickness rise up inside her.

"Bruce, I _want_ to come home!" she said firmly, "This is madness being stuck here, waiting for the Joker to just show up. Bruce he's in the building somewhere I know it! Something awful has happened here…"

"I know about the fingernails," he finished for her, "Gordon called my other number straight away. Amelia you _have _to stay put! Gordon is right; this is our chance to finally catch him. I'm taking Libby somewhere safe and then I'm coming right over,"

Amelia blinked. "Somewhere safe?"

Bruce was silent for a moment at the other end and she suddenly felt her legs weaken, like they were filled with lead.

"Amelia….something has happened here. Sarah shot Alfred,"

Her lips were pressed so tightly together that she couldn't speak. Words choked up in her throat. When she didn't answer and the only sound was Bruce's breathing on the other end, finally he spoke.

"He's in New Gotham General now. She thought she had killed him and called it in. Believe it or not, she gave herself up,"

Hot tears trailed down Amelia's face and she hurriedly wiped them away.

"Is he alright?" she breathed and she heard Bruce swallow at the other end.

"No, he's critical," he replied, his own voice faltering, "Amelia if anything happens to him…."

"I'll kill her myself!" Amelia vowed through gritted teeth, "I swear I will. I'll kill them both,"

////

When Bruce snapped his cell shut he cast a look at the defeated looking young woman huddled in the corner of the police van they were sitting in. Sarah stared blankly ahead, digging her fingernails into the palms of her hands. Her bottom lip was swollen from where she had chewed on it so hard.

Bruce placed the palms of his hands on his knees and leaned towards her. She met his eyes reluctantly.

It was so strange how he could see it now. He could see the subtle difference in her face, the new nose and larger lips, the change of hair. She had sculpted herself to resemble a woman that she had never met. But when you really looked at her, it was startling, blindly obvious. She was still the stubborn, tough little cookie that he had never really taken to all those years ago. Except now she had been broken in half.

"I cant believe that I didn't see it before," Bruce whispered and Sarah huddled further into the blanket that one of the officers had wrapped around her shoulders before cuffing her wrists, "I cant believe you nearly destroyed us,"

Sarah's eyes brimmed with hurt tears. "You were doing a good job of that all by yourselves. All I did was give you a little taste of something new,"

Her voice was bitter and Bruce could tell that even she didn't believe her own words. Her face was twisted in self hatred, the reality of what she had done, churning her heart up like a grinder.

She couldn't bare him looking at her like this. She felt naked in the stark lighting of the police van.

"There is good in you Sarah," Bruce told her, "You did the right thing,"

Sarah snorted. "You sound just like the old man,"

She saw his face change, twist with worry and regretted her words, but she couldn't stop herself.

"You think you're so self righteous, that you _know _me, that I'm really good on the inside," she was raving, "But you know nothing about me. And you can hardly talk! I don't remember you shying away when I kissed you,"

Bruce looked away, the bitterness in her voice made her so ugly.

"I could have _had_ you right there. Your marriage is a sham and you've known it for years. How awful it must be for you Bruce…knowing that she was with him….knowing that she lay sleeping in his arms, that he made love to her….and she wont let you _touch_ her!"

Bruce rose from his seat with such force that it shook the van and Sarah scrambled across the floor in fear. He grabbed her shoulders and pulled her close, his fingers digging so hard into her upper arms that she yelped in pain.

"You wanted me….you still do," her lips were close to his. He stared into her eyes and saw the black pit that was her soul. There was nothing left there.

"What I wanted was a lie," he breathed, "Amelia is twice the woman you'll ever be. She's good and compassionate, even to those who don't deserve it, like you. And for that alone, I could never betray her. She is the other half of me. The Joker has taken what little good there was left in you and twisted it for his own gains and that's something he has never been able to do to her. And it kills him,"

He released her and she fell back on the floor breathing hard.

Bruce stared down at her. "What is he planning on doing?"

When she didn't answer he reached for the silver door handle. He heard her move behind him and he turned. She was looking up at him, her lips trembling.

"I don't know what he wants. I don't know what he's planning. But I know that there is a small, tiny part of him that loves her. That's the side you have to reach and who knows…maybe you can save him,"

Bruce's face softened, he looked at her for the longest time until she finally broke his gaze.

"Maybe I can save you too, one day," he said before throwing the door open and jumping out of the van. Sarah jolted as the metal door slid shut.

She bit down on her lip, fighting her need to cry as she slid the knife out of her black sleeve. She stared down at it.

"I doubt it Bruce," she whispered to herself, "I doubt it,"


	15. The Uninvited Guest

**The Uninvited Guest**

Amelia clicked her heels impatiently on the hard wood floor. Catering staff whirred about the Opera House foyer, now bringing in trays of deserts, their platters piled up high with mouth-watering chocolate roulades and fruit salads.

Gordon had been missing for a while and Amelia didn't feel brave enough to start poking around looking for him. The image of those ten almost perfectly intact red nails shot into her head and she forced it away. Poor Clarissa, Amelia thought miserably.

_Come on Bruce_, she willed him to appear but it had been over an hour since she'd spoken to him on the phone. She couldn't believe how horribly wrong everything had gone. The Joker was here, somewhere. The Cat had tried to kidnap Libby. And now Alfred….

Amelia swallowed catching sight of Gordon stalking towards her. He was staring at her and nearly bumped into one of the waiters as he went. Amelia stood up, noticing his pained expression and began to chew her lip nervously.

"You look worried," she tried to force a smile but her heart sank when he didn't return it.

"I have to leave," he said taking her shoulders when she stared back at him wide eyed.

"No, you can't leave…Bruce isn't here yet!" she stammered and he shook his head.

"I'm sorry but I have to. Something has happened," he looked away, obviously reluctant to divulge. When he saw the panicked look in her eyes he faltered.

"The Cat has escaped," he said, his voice defeated, "There was an accident on route twelve heading to back to the station. She killed three of my men,"

Amelia covered her mouth with her hands. "I'm so sorry,"

"So you see I have to go," he grasped her shoulder tightly and gave it a squeeze, "But you have the protection of my officers and," he leaned closer and lowered his voice, "The Batman is on his way, I spoke to him not long ago and he is coming here,"

Amelia nodded silently, folding her arms across her chest. If she hadn't of felt so drained and exhausted at that moment, she would have found that amusing. The fact that Bruce, Batman, her husband was coming didn't make her feel any better. He was late, so something must be wrong. Maybe he had been caught up with the accident on the highway?

Defeated she watched Gordon leave, aware that the eyes of his officers were fixed on her.

_It wont keep him out_, she thought miserably.

She watched him round them all up and began issuing orders to them, probably telling them not to let Amelia out of their sight for a moment.

When he had gone, Amelia noticed Sally, red faced and flustered, standing by the entrance to the banqueting hall, desperately trying to get her attention.

Amelia smiled and instantly felt sorry for the poor girl, who had had so much responsibility thrust on her in one evening. When Amelia reached her Sally smiled gratefully.

"Are you alright?" Amelia asked and the girl nodded.

"The guest speaker is wondering when to begin her presentation, seeing as we were delayed," Sally began, "But the desserts are all out so maybe we can start while people are eating? That way the ballet won't be affected?"

Amelia folded her arms and nodded in agreement. "It's a slide show presentation isn't it? I take it that it's all set up and ready?"

Sally wiped her brow and nodded. "Of course Mrs Wayne,"

"Thank you so much for doing all this tonight," Amelia squeezed the girl's arm, "I won't forget it!"

Sally beamed. "It's been stressful but in a good way! I'll get that presentation on the way,"

Grateful for the younger girl's support, Amelia stepped away and walked back across the foyer, growing sick of being stuck out here. She felt helpless, like she couldn't breathe out here. She looked out at the courtyard and saw over fifty police cars stationed outside. She sighed, her breath fogging the glass of the window.

_Jack look what you've done, all the chaos you've caused. But then you like that don't you? Why can't you just let us be?_

She didn't know how long she had been staring at her own miserable reflection when she felt someone tap her shoulder urgently. Jumping she turned to see a bearded police officer, her heart sinking. She had hoped it would be Bruce.

"Mrs Wayne there is a problem….we need to get you out of here now," he said hurriedly, taking her by the upper arm but Amelia pulled away.

"What's wrong….what's happened?" she didn't wait for an answer to her question. The answer was happening in the ballroom, where she could hear the murmurs and cries of over a hundred frightened women. Darting out of the officer's way she flew to the double doors and burst through them, her heart leaping into her throat.

She stared at the stage. The slide show was on but it wasn't what Amelia had been expecting.

The images been shot up on the screen were of Clarissa, tied to a chair. They changed every few seconds, a different image, getting closer to her, a knife appearing in the shot, held in the gloved hand of the man taking the photo. They were of Clarissa's final moments. Amelia squeezed her eyes shut, not wanting to see, trying to block out the sound of terrified women all around her. The camera lens was streaked with scarlet.

"_Make it stop_!" someone screamed and suddenly Amelia opened her eyes and ran for the stage. She found Sally on her hands and knees in front of the projector, sweat making her hair stick to her head, trying to prevent the gruesome images from playing over and over.

"It wont turn off," she babbled, "The guest speaker put it on…it must have been switched somehow…it's so awful!"

"Here let me try," she barked. She pushed buttons rapidly but nothing was happening. In the background she could hear people crying, chaos literally erupting around them like a volcano.

"The power lead!" Amelia exclaimed suddenly, "Pull it out, I can't turn the thing off,"

Sally found the cable with shaking hands and followed it to the source at the wall but gasped in horror. It was a mass of plugs and sockets; you couldn't tell which one was for the projector.

"Which one?" she cried in her horror and Amelia rushed to her side.

"All of them," she said, "_Just pull them all out!"_

The two women frantically began twisting plugs out of their tight sockets, until the grid was nearly empty. As Amelia yanked the last one out the room was swept up into darkness and screams sounded out all around her.

"The emergency lighting should kick in any minute!" Sally gasped, running her hand across the floor and finding Amelia's "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine, but I can't see anything!" she gasped. This was a disaster! Where were all of Gordon's men? She could hear male voices in the crowd, but nobody seemed to be calling for calm. On her hands and knees, Amelia crawled back towards the projector, relieved to see that pulling the cable had worked. She could make out shapes in the darkness as her eyes adjusted. She found the presentation stand with her hands and used it as a lever to pull her to her feet, one of her heels tearing through the fabric of her dress. She steadied herself and tried to peer out into the crowd, wishing desperately that the lights would come back on.

"Ladies, please!" she cried, her voice straining above the din, "_Ladies, calm down!"_

To her amazement the crowd seemed to hush.

"The emergency lighting will come back on any minute….just everyone stay in their seats, don't move, it will be a lot safer that way!"

Whispers went through the crowd of terrified women and Amelia could feel the sweat pouring down her back. Where was Bruce? Her skin prickled, almost as if someone was standing too close to her. She let out a breath and closed her eyes.

He was here. Somewhere in this room he was watching her and laughing.

_Please come back on, please!_ She thought, willing them with any strength she had left.

She blinked, shock coursing through her as all at once the room was illuminated. Shielding her eyes, she heard the cries of relief around her and she looked over her shoulder to see Sally crouched on the floor, trembling. Sally gave her a half hearted smile and a thumbs up and Amelia let out a deep sigh.

Then someone let out a scream. Every hair on Amelia's body stood to attention as a deathly silence fell across the room. The woman screamed again and Amelia was running towards her.

There was a small crowd around the table that it was coming from, everyone on their feet, stood around to witness the macabre sight before them. When Amelia pushed through the crowd, her first instinct was to look away but she found she was transfixed. It seemed Clarissa had joined them after all. She was propped up in a chair, a feather boa draped around her thin, pale neck, her head lolling backwards almost painfully. One of her arms was propped up on the table, the other hung like a dead weight from her shoulder socket, making it appear she was leaning over.

Amelia covered her face with her hands. She had seen Clarissa's face.

Awful, lost memories washed over her and she choked, remembering her own Mother's torn, butchered face.

On numb legs Amelia backed away, not wanting to look at that disturbing grin, as if the poor woman found something secretly amusing, that the rest of them failed to see.

"I have to apologise for my date," came a familiar voice behind them all. It was a voice that always sounded like he was about to laugh, that he too found everything and everyone amusing, "She was definitely cheap!"

Amelia whirled around and caught sight of him on the stage. He was standing hunched, with his hands behind his back. She took in a sharp breath. It had been a while since their last encounter at Wayne Manor. He had terrified her then, but now he looked different. It was his eyes. He was almost demonic.

Steadily she walked towards him. He looked her up and down appreciatively.

"Well ballerina, don't you look divine tonight….good enough to eat!" he chuckled and clapped his hands together; "I might just have to try you out!"

Amelia knew she should be fleeing for her life but every angry emotion was boiling inside her. She narrowed her eyes at him.

"Joker," she said calmly, "Let these women go. You're fight is with me, not them,"

He looked disappointed. "But where's the fun if they don't get to watch?"

She was nearing the stage, her eyes darting nervously around the crowded room. Where was the back up that Gordon had promised? And where was Bruce?

"Oh if you're looking for your dark knight in shining armour, I'm afraid he's a little tied up at the moment…tied up with a certain young cat we both know that is," he waved his hands around theatrically, "And as for Gotham's finest…I locked them out!"

One of the women behind Amelia was rapidly banging on the large double doors.

"We can't get out!" she screamed shrilly and Amelia stared back up at Jack wildly.

"Let them go, please," she implored, "I'll do whatever you want,"

The Joker raised a quizzical eyebrow at her and then broke into a fit of manic laughter.

"_Really_?" he laughed, "You will? Geez if you'd have done that years ago then I guess we wouldn't be here now would we? Tell me exactly, ballerina, what it is you _think_ I want you to do?"

Amelia, defeated, hung her head, her voice soft. "I don't know,"

"Well then don't make rash promises you don't intend to keep!" he pulled out the large serrated knife from his inside pocket, causing a hush of frightened whimpers to travel across the room, "Now get up here,"

All eyes were on her slim form as she walked slowly to the stage, her feet like lead. The whole time his black eyes were boring into her own, almost willing her forward. Amelia knew that she had to draw him away from the banqueting hall. She saw Sally cowering in the far corner of the stage and she realised that there was a back passageway there that lead to the stage doors that the performers exited from in the evenings. There was also a prop room and all the dressing rooms; she remembered it from when she and Clarissa had first viewed the opera house a year ago.

When she reached the stage, he held out his gloved hand to her, as if to help her up. She looked at his outstretched hand and then up at him. His lips were pressed into a thin line, but as always his eyes were smiling.

"Now there you are," he said, licking his lips nervously, "We have a lot of catching up to do don't we?"

Amelia hunched her shoulders. "I'm not frightened of you," she whispered.

He grinned. "What really? How _disappointing_. Not even a tiny bit?"

Amelia placed her hand in his. The old connection was still there, she still remembered the feel of holding his hand as they walked the streets in Verona. He closed his fingers around hers, for a moment, his eyes conflicted, confused as if he remembered too. He pulled her up onto the stage and linked his arm around her waist, pulling her against him with a thud. She gripped his upper arms and leaned closer to him.

"But you know what Joker?" she hissed, "You've really pissed me off this time!"

She didn't wait for a cutting reply. She used his momentary reaction to act, bringing her knee up squarely between his legs, feeling him jolt with pain and stagger backwards, his body crashing against the wooden slats. The crowd of women roared in union as she made a frantic dash off the stage towards the back passages of the opera house.

Breathing hard and her heels clattering along the stone floor she chased along, her heart firing in her chest. Behind her she heard him give a roar of anger and heard his boots hammering across the stage in her direction. Corridors opened up before her and she frantically tried door handles, thudding her body against them in a vain attempt to open them. She saw a set of spiralled stairs and raced for them, kicking off her high shoes and flinging them behind her.

"_Ballerina!_" he cried angrily, somewhere behind her.

She had done worse than hurt him. She had humiliated him in front of his audience. Her breath ragged in her throat she flew down the stairs, not even stopping to check that he was even still behind her. She found herself in yet another dimly lit corridor and she tried the first door she came to, her heart leaping with joy when it opened. She carefully closed it behind her, sweat beading on her forehead. She pressed her ear to the door and listened for the sound of his boots on the metal staircase. After what seemed like an eternity, she heard them, gently, deliberately coming down the staircase towards her.

Amelia ran her hand along in the darkness and almost immediately collided with some sort of railing. She felt her way along and realised that she must be in the costume room. She could feel soft, squashy clothes under her finger tips. She got on her hands and knees and crawled along, her eyes slowly adjusting in the dark. She crawled behind the railing, dragging her dress along with her and squeezed herself behind the stacks of old, musty smelling costumes. The only sound she could hear was the blood rushing in her ears, her pulse beating frantically as she waited.

She closed her eyes. _Please Bruce, please come for me_.

The door swung open and her eyes went wide. She folded herself into a ball, trying to make herself as small as she could, but she knew miserably it was only a matter of time. He flicked the switch and the whole room burst into bright light, making her squint her eyes. Now she could se where she was, she realised that she wasn't that well hidden.

"Little ballerina…" he sang softly, "You know you can never hide from me don't you? I always find you…."

Amelia squeezed her eyes shut. Even if this didn't work and she was going to die a grisly death in a costume room then hopefully it had bought Bruce more time. Hopefully she had saved her daughter.

He walked further into the room and from her crouched position she could see the bottom of his coat and his heavy boots.

"BOO!" he cried pulling the costumes apart on the railing and poking his green head through, his face inches from her own, "Caught you!"

Amelia tried to crawl away but he seized both her wrists painfully and dragged her to her feet. He pinned her arms to her sides and gave her a rough, bruising kiss on the mouth.

"God you know how to turn a guy on ballerina!" he laughed wiping his mouth with his sleeve, "I love a good game of hide and seek!"

He spun her around so that she faced away from him and pulled her back against his chest. She could feel his breath, hot on her neck and the more she tried to squirm away, the tighter he held her. He ran his tongue from the nape of her neck right up to her ear, leaving a cold, wet trail behind.

"I've missed you," he whispered, before wrapping his forearms around her head, twisting her into a headlock, where his grip increased. She could see the world swimming before her eyes, her legs growing weaker before she realised she was going to pass out.

She fought but he was too strong and her legs slid out underneath her, before she passed into blackness. The Joker stared down at her lifeless body and crouched beside her. He ran his gloved hand over her face, letting his finger trail lightly over her bare lips. He had forgotten her face and how much he had once loved to watch her sleep. He had forgotten a lot of things. Scooping her up in his arms, her head lolling against his shoulder, he carried her out into the corridor.

The stage door was just down the hall and he kicked the door open violently, stepping out into the cold night air, watching as the breeze sent her blonde hair flying across her face. His heart twisted in his chest but he ignored it.

"Show time, my sweet," he whispered to her sleeping form, "Show time!"


	16. The Black Horizon

**Hi everyone. We are getting nearer the end now, not many left to go! Just wanted to say thank you to all of you that have kept me going. Just so you know that this Chapter starts with a flash back. Hope you enjoy! Please review and let me know you're thoughts. xx**

**The Black Horizon**

The world was spinning. Amelia pelted for the bathroom, locking the door swiftly behind her. The sick feeling that had dwelled inside her for the last few hours could finally be ignored no longer as she leaned over the toilet and vomited until she couldn't see straight.

Collapsing next to the bowl, the tiles of the bathroom floor cool against her hot skin; she let her head fall into her hands. Beneath her the ship dipped and rose swiftly causing her to heave again before darting to the bowl.

Gripping the sink with her whitened fingers and pulled herself to her feet, catching sight of her pallid reflection in the mirror. The water was like ice on her flesh as she splashed her face and grabbed a towel.

There was a tap on the door and she jumped.

"You in there?" came Jack's voice from outside and she frantically pinched her cheeks to put some colour into them.

"Erm…yeah," she called, "I'll be out in a minute, Ok?"

The ship moved violently from under her feet again and she stumbled forward, crashing her head into the vanity unit. When he heard her cry of pain, he didn't wait any longer. The door crashed open and Jack found her rubbing the tiny dent in her forehead.

She turned to look at him sheepishly and he took her upper arms to steady her.

"Hey what did the cabinet ever do to you?" he joked, leading her out into the living room of their executive stateroom.

"I don't know what happened," she said half dazed as he ushered her to the sofa and planted her on it, "We were up on deck…then I felt so sick,"

Jack looked at her closely with his black eyes, his tongue feeling around the inside of his mouth, a habit that Amelia had become so used to over the last year.

"You got sea sick!" he patted her back a bit harder than was necessary, "After you ran off like that the sky went really black. The Captain has issued a weather warning; we're all confined to our cabins,"

He winked at her suggestively, leaning forward and kissing her exposed neck with his mouth, working his way up to her ear. His breath on her skin tickled and she laughed.

"I can think of a few ways to pass the time….cant you ballerina?" he kissed her jaw, hungrily making his way around to her mouth when she pulled away.

"Jack….I just vomited!" she protested but he didn't seem to hear her, too busy unbuttoning her shirt.

"I don't care," he mumbled against her mouth when he kissed her again but she wrestled out of his grip.

"Jack I still feel awful and if it's getting choppy then it could happen again. And then you'll _really_ never forgive me,"

Jack sat up straight and pouted like a child that had had his toys taken away. He folded his arms across his chest.

"Fine," he stalked over to the mini bar and roughly yanked the door open, looking inside and then pulling out a cold beer. He popped it open and threw himself back down on the sofa. "We can watch TV instead like an old married couple,"

Amelia smiled at his sudden sulky mood. It didn't take a lot to bring it on these days and sometimes she felt like she was a professional at it. It seemed so easy to push the right buttons to make him mad. Usually denying him sex was the one that worked best, not that she denied it often.

Jack was flicking through the channels aimlessly, not really even seeing the screen in front of him. Suddenly something caught his eye and he darted back to it. Amelia heard it to and looked up at the screen. It was a news report from Gotham, a woman in a grey suit sat behind a desk. Amelia recognised her as one of the anchor women who had been there last year when she had appealed to Harley Quinn to give back little Greta Williams. She darted her eyes at Jack and saw him staring at the screen, his brows knitted together.

Behind the woman was the headline **was Batman ever really the enemy?**

"It's been nearly a year since psychotic clown prince The Joker disappeared from our city. After his escape of Arkham, Gotham's police force waited for the inevitable chaos to ensue, but to everybody's surprise and relief it never did. The man who was responsible for killing hundreds of innocent people, notably attorney Rachel Dawes, and for blowing up Gotham General disappeared as mysteriously as he arrived leaving us to ask the question, were we to blame in pointing the finger at Batman all these years? The dark vigilantes work can be seen all over the city. Crime is down, local muggings have ceased as well as notable members of the mafia are finally behind bars. Is this the work of Batman and if so where is he to thank? We ask what drives him to protect a city that vilified him? Was he responsible for removing the Joker from our city and if he was how can we ever repay him?"

Jack flicked the remote and the screen went black. The whole time Amelia had been watching his face, twisting and changing, as though he were having a private conversation in his own head. He stared down at the remote in his hands and then suddenly hurled it across the cabin with such ferocity that she jumped back in her seat.

She reached to touch his arm. "Jack…"

He lunged at her suddenly, wrapping his hands around her tiny neck and squeezing hard so that her eyes widened.

"It's _Joker!_ _Joker!_ Do you _understand _that?" he gripped harder and Amelia felt the blood draining out of her face, she met his eyes and saw that the light had disappeared out of them, they were as black and soulless as the night she first laid eyes on him in Arkham.

"You've done this to me," he hissed, "You've…_done_…this!"

She made a whimpering noise and for some reason, to her immense relief he let go, scrambling away from her, down onto the floor by her feet. Struggling to catch her breath she watched him curl himself into a ball, his hands raking through his blonde hair, hair that had once been tinged with green. You could never tell now, there were no signs left at all of the man he once was. Apart from the scars, of course.

He crawled across the floor and hugged her legs tightly, resting his head on her knees.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," he moaned, kissing the exposed flesh of her legs, his hands clawing up her body, like a small child that desperately wanted to be hugged.

Confused and still reeling from shock, Amelia got down on the floor with him, folding him tightly into her arms.

"Its Ok," she whispered into his hair, "It's alright,"

"I'm sorry," he choked, "I didn't mean that…"

_Yes you did,_ she thought darkly, her heart finally steadying to a calm beat.

She held him tighter, trying to ignore the memories of the last few nights on this ship coming back to her as they sat their together, the boat rocking below them. It seemed that since they had set foot on this boat, he had been even more distracted and edgy than usual. His sleep pattern had been erratic, waking tangled with the bed linen, night terrors seeming to be plaguing him. Amelia had noticed that he had been far off and distant, almost having conversations in his head. Sometimes he spoke out loud as if to answer an unspoken question, leaving Amelia feeling a little creeped out. Who exactly was he talking to at night? But in a way it had distracted him from her.

This wasn't the first time that Amelia had been sick and she'd covered it up well. It hurt her a little that he was so busy in his own head that he hadn't noticed the obvious change in her. Before arriving at the port in London, she had done a pregnancy test and the results had elated and horrified her at the same time. She was having the Joker's baby and right at this moment, after watching that news report she wondered at what Bruce would say if he ever knew. Also the mention of Rachel's name had thrown her. She hadn't been expecting that and it had burst the bubble that had been shielding her this past year.

Jack looked up from her shoulder and kissed the tip of her nose.

"Ah, I'm gonna have a lie down….I didn't get much sleep last night,"

Amelia nodded and let him pull away, watching him amble to the bedroom and closing the door behind. She let out a sigh and rubbed her eyes.

What was happening? What was she doing with this man who only minutes ago was being referred to as the 'clown prince'?

She stood shakily, once again sickness overwhelming her and she flew to the bathroom. After it had passed she stared at her reflection in the mirror and saw the beginnings of purple finger shaped bruises on her thin neck.

_Oh Bruce. What would you ever think of me?_ She thought miserably. She asked herself how she could ever go back to that life?

The ship they picked up in London was sailing straight for Gotham. They were going home. The unspoken words hung heavy in the air between them but neither of them could bring themselves to talk about it. What would happen when they got back? Would they resume their old lives? Would she go back to living the life of a Gotham socialite and him a killing psychopath?

And now she was pregnant. Wiping her brow, Amelia left the bathroom and headed for the balcony of their state room, suddenly craving fresh air. She threw the doors open, leaning against the railing, watching the black horizon bobbing up and down as the waves crested and fell away, the boat like a toy ship in a wave pool. All it would take was one large wave, to engulf them completely, to drag them down into the abyss forever, just a memory, a ghost ship at the bottom of the ocean.

Amelia closed her eyes. She knew that she had to tell him. Something was happening to Jack, something she couldn't explain. Maybe telling him about her condition would bring him out of it?

Breathing deeply she wished it was a year ago and wishing they were just starting out together, but she knew in heart that sadly, all good things had to come to an end eventually.

////

Amelia awoke and her head throbbed. She opened her eyes slowly, a dull ache spreading at the back of them. Lifting her head carefully, she blinked, feeling the hard, solid wood floor beneath her, seeing the moon's reflection bouncing off of the polished surface. She groaned and rolled onto her side and was met by the sight of the night time Gotham skyline, the glass of the window only inches from her face.

She was in her old apartment. In the upstairs ballroom.

"Look familiar, ballerina?" came the low chuckle behind her and she closed her eyes. She remembered Clarissa's body propped at the table, she remembered him on the stage and she remembered running away from him.

She struggled to pull herself into a sitting position, realising that her hands were bound behind her back, the cords slicing into her bare flesh.

"Why'd you tie me up Joker?" she said in a low voice, "What can I ever do to you?"

She heard his footsteps behind her and looking back at the glass window she saw his eerie reflection standing only inches from her. She saw the knife glittering in his hand and she shivered inwardly. She was done being afraid of him and she would die before showing him how afraid she actually was.

He grabbed her cords and spun her around to face him making her wince in agony.

He knelt in front of her dancing the knife in her face. He moved closer, reaching behind her back with the knife and cut through her ties, his breath on her neck bringing back memories she'd tried to suppress. He pulled back to look at her and laughed at the look on her face.

"Look at my precious ballerina, all alone," he hissed through his teeth, "There's always a prince waiting in the wings to rescue you isn't there? Always someone ready to catch you when you fall? Even our stiff upper lipped, Commissioner couldn't take his eyes off you tonight…."

She looked away in disgust but he grabbed her chin between his gloved fingers and yanked it back to face him.

"Oh…I saw everything….the way he looked at you, giving you a reassuring pat on the shoulder….an arm to comfort you with….there is always a man waiting in line for you to use up and toss away isn't there?"

She stared back into his black eyes with equal hatred. "Don't be absurd. He was doing his job,"

The Joker nodded manically letting a giggle escape his lips.

"Oh I think he was enjoying it a bit too much ballerina….trust me, I know when a man is struggling with his inner demons,"

Amelia smirked. "Hmm. I'm sure you do,"

He slapped her hard, a whistle of pain rushing through her teeth, her hair flying over her face. It took only a second for the realisation to kick in and the sting to come. Composing herself she stared back at him.

"So what was the problem?" she asked, "You're not jealous of Gordon?"

She laughed and he hit her again but this time she flew backwards. She landed palms down on the polished floor, her tongue feeling around her mouth and tasting blood.

Amelia proper herself up on her elbows and stared up at him. He had begun to pace, his boots thudding across the floor.

"So tell me….where is your dark knight this evening?" he provoked as she pulled herself to her feet.

"Doing his job," she answered carefully, "And don't even begin trying to plant seeds of doubt there. I know about Sarah and what you've been planning together. I expected something better from you Joker,"

He turned on his heels and stalked towards her, grabbing her roughly and pulling her against him. She winced as his fingers dug into her upper arms.

"You did? _Really?_ Well I hate to disappoint my audience, even if it's an audience of one. Maybe you'd like to know how Clarissa felt in the last moments of her miserable life?"

Amelia threw back her head, meeting his eyes squarely. "Go ahead. You can carve me up, deliver me the same fate that your father did to my Mother but you can't destroy me. I'm through with you. Do you understand? I _don't _love you enough to care anymore!"

He let go of her roughly and she staggered back on numb feet. He stalked away from her and it was only then that she realised that there were barrels dotted all around the room. She shivered half hoping that she wasn't seeing them but in her heart she knew what he was planning.

"You're going to blow me up?" she sighed and he turned to stare blankly back at her, "So….you want me to scream? Beg for my life? I'm _done_ with that. In fact pass me the matches and we can get this over and done with, that way you'll be out of my life for good!"

That was when he threw his own head back and let out a terrifying life. Stalking back towards her, he grabbed the back of her head and pulled her closer to him.

"Don't you know anything ballerina….you can't get away from me, I'd follow you even into death. Have you forgotten how the story ends? They burn together, remember?"

Amelia blinked up at him. He was talking about the children's story that she'd read him when they were children and despite her better judgement, her eyes filled up with tears.

"She jumps in after him because she loves him!" she cried in despair, tears choking her throat and the unspoken words hung between them.

He looked at her for the longest time, the grip on her neck loosening slightly and to her horror he was pulling her nearer. She found herself staring at the red streak across his mouth, remembering what it was like to kiss him. His top lip brushed her jaw line and she closed her eyes, the only sound between them was their heartbeats thudding together.

"Let me go," she whispered, "Why can't you let me go?"

He dipped his head, resting it on her shoulder, his breathing deep and relaxed. This was Jack. For a moment The Joker was gone and they were alone.

"Why did you throw me off that ship?" she asked, "Its all I've ever wanted to know,"

His lips found her throat, kissing their way up to her jaw line; she dodged his mouth quickly, telling herself that she couldn't cave in. But her heart swelled with something more, a feeling that had lay dormant for the longest time. It was the feeling she got when she had watched him sleep when they were away. The same feeling she got when she'd found out she was pregnant with Libby.

Gently she pushed him away. "Why did you do it?" she asked again, her voice more urgent.

"It was the only way to save you," he replied, his voice drained.

"Save me from what?" she whispered, "From you?"

Jack stepped away, his face half hidden in the darkness. She could see his hand flexing into a fist. He was struggling inside.

"I'm never alone," he said, his voice struggling between normality and the creepy sing song voice that belonged to the Joker, "Never alone…..and it was the only way to keep you safe….both of you,"

Amelia stepped closer. "Jack," but he held out his hand to stop her.

"Stay where you are!" he warned. She watched in horror as he took a match from his pocket and lit it on the underside of his boot. He glanced back at her, the other half of his face glinting at her in the flame light from the match. He winked wickedly and blew it out.

Amelia swallowed, knowing that Jack was gone and the Joker had returned.


	17. Guilt can eat you Alive

**Firstly I just want to say a massive apology for taking so, so long to update. For those of you who even remember and might still be reading, I can't say how sorry I am. I got married, had a long honeymoon and then my computer broke. At no time have I lost interest or gotten bored of the story, life has just been so busy! But that is all over now and I'm finally finishing this. Please, please review and tell me what you think, good or bad (hopefully good). Again sorry and really hope this is worth the wait! Thanks for reading xx**

**Guilt Can Eat You Alive**

With an exhausted, painful breath Sarah hauled her trembling body over the concrete wall. She didn't let out a wail as her body fell to the ground, a sharp drop that she had not been expecting. She didn't cry out as her body cracked against the ground below, pain whooshing through her gritted teeth. Her face wet and sore, her throat raw from tears, she stared up at the night sky and knew that she deserved no better.

God, she wanted to die now. Her heart swelled with guilt and she squeezed her eyes shut, not wanting the vision of the old man's face burned into her memory. The look of shock and surprise in his older eyes. The look of fear. And misery. He'd failed to protect the girl. He'd let down his master.

Sarah choked. There was nothing you could have done; she wished she had said to him. It was always going to happen this way. The guilt is on me.

A deafening whirring noise filled the sky above her. She blinked against the search lights that were probing the roof top. Sarah scrambled into a sitting poison, every muscle in her body protesting. A sharp pain flooded through her chest and she winced, recognising the feel of a snapped rib. She crawled across the concrete, into the shadows, becoming one with the darkness there. Holding her breath, she waited for the search lights to pass, the helicopter hovering only yards from her hiding place.

It was too late to go back now and she knew that the Joker was already in full swing of his plan. She swallowed, fear thick in her throat.

It was never supposed to be this way. She never dreamed that it would end like this.

Ignoring the splintering sensations of her body failing her, she stood slowly. The taillights of the helicopter were heading away to another part of town. She watched them disappear into the night. The sound of sirens wailing like demons filled her ears and she peered over the edge of the rooftop.

Somewhere out there, Amelia was going to suffer and it was her fault. But hadn't she wanted this the whole time?

No, she answered her own train of thought. She had wanted Bruce, yes. She had wanted to have Amelia's lifestyle. But she hadn't wanted her death.

But she should have known that by aligning with The Joker, it was always going to end this way.

Sarah wanted to fling herself from the building, tears flowing from her blue eyes.

It was always going to end this way.

////

Gordon rubbed his eyes. His heart was tearing in two. Cop cars surrounded him, their flashing lights too bright, and their sirens too noisy.

Never in his life did he want to escape them so badly now.

The Cat had murdered two of his men. One was a twenty three year old rookie with a baby on the way. She had attempted to kill Bruce Wayne's butler and kidnap Liberty Wayne. And the Joker had Amelia Wayne locked up somewhere in the grand building in front of him. There were over twenty cop cars lining the parade of Millionaire's row, a nickname given to one of the most upper class areas to live in Gotham City.

Gordon stared up at the building open mouthed. How did this _keep_ happening? How did one man manage to cause so much destruction and carnage?

"Sir," the young, red haired Officer Davies was by his side. Hearing his voice pulled him out of the guilt infested slump he'd fallen into.

"What is it? Have you found a way into the building?" Gordon turned to him hopefully, but the boy looked crestfallen.

"The Joker seems to be ten steps ahead of us….he's blocked off most of the exits.."

Gordon narrowed his eyes at him. "Well….cant we unblock them…."

The boy looked breathless. "Everything's wired Sir," he mumbled, "There are traps set at all the exits…it looks like makeshift bombs,"

Gordon groaned audibly and folded his arms. "So…we're screwed,"

Officer Davies let out a long sigh. "No one is getting in…or _out_ of that building. If we could talk to him, maybe? Find out what he wants?"

Gordon almost laughed at that. "That would be an excellent suggestion if this was a hostage situation Officer, but it isn't. If the Joker wanted money then Bruce Wayne would lay down his entire fortune to get his wife back. But we can't negotiate with a man who doesn't know what he wants,"

The younger man looked confused. This hadn't been covered in the Police Academy. Terrorists always had a goal, be it money, fame or to prove a point. Hostages were the bargaining point. Officer Davies realised that Mrs Wayne wasn't a hostage.

She was the Joker's prize. The boy shivered suddenly, as though someone had opened a refrigerator. He looked down at the ground and realised that he was standing in a massive shadow, the hairs prickling on his neck, the sensation of someone standing too close to him almost overwhelming.

He turned and let out a gasp, wondering how a man that enormous could appear so silently.

"Uh…Sir?" Davies murmured, "Someone to see you,"

Gordon tore his eyes away from the looming building before him.

"I'm glad you're here," he breathed and cast a glance at the terrified looking officer next to him, "Davies, get Mullen on the cell and tell them we need a bomb squad over here now….we need to start taking those bombs to bits!"

"Yes Sir!" the boy took off, the oppressive feeling of being in the Batman's presence too much to bear.

"Bombs," the quieter voice exhaled, "You know he would have wired them so that if we try to tamper with them…."

Gordon shook his head in despair. "I know. I _know_ but….God we have to try. That's Bruce Wayne's _wife_ up there. If anything happens to her tonight….can you imagine the backlash? Not to mention the media…"

Batman swallowed. "I know,"

Gordon was pale, his thinning hair untidy. Bruce worried for him. He looked exhausted. Bruce worried for Alfred, laying deathly pale in a hospital bed across town. He worried for his little girl. He was terrified for the woman he loved.

But Batman, remained steady. "You can't risk more officers trying to get in that building. That's more blood on the Joker's hands and I can't allow that. The Cat has already taken two innocent lives tonight,"

Gordon shoved his hands in his coat pockets. "I need to contact Bruce Wayne and find out how his butler is doing…and his child.."

"Let Bruce Wayne take care of that," Batman told him gently, "The girl is with a friend…a trusted friend,"

After what seemed like an eternity of silence Gordon spoke again.

"I told her she was safe," he said softly, speaking almost to himself, "I told her that we would take care of her….and he took her right out of my hands!"

Bruce felt his agony. Inside he was dying. All he wanted was his wife back in his arms. He didn't care that she could never quite love him the way he craved. He didn't care that the little girl he'd raised wasn't really his.

He needed her in his life. Amelia was what had kept him sane these last years. When Rachel had been taken he never dreamed he could love like that again.

But the love he felt for Amelia was somehow different. It was possible he loved her as dearly as he had Rachel but this was deeper. She was his companion. His best friend. And she loved the two halves of him as though they didn't exist. To Amelia Bruce and Batman was the same person. She understood.

It was quite a lot of one woman to take. She understood the cause he fought and championed him, as though she were right next to him in the battle. Only a woman like that could possibly be able to love someone like Jack Napier. She saw the good in both sides.

Bruce balled his hands into fists at his sides; he had to stay in control.

Gordon turned to him.

"Can _you_ get up there?" Gordon asked, his eyes almost begging. Someone please do something! Someone make the guilt go away!

"If its wired at every exit then it will be difficult," Batman swallowed, "I can get up to the roof. I can try to locate where exactly they are in the building from up there,"

"Then go!" Gordon pleaded, "Let me know what you find,"

"I will," Batman agreed knowing that if he had any sort of chance he would take it right now with or without Gordon's help.

As he disappeared into the night and prepared to climb the building, he realised that it was Amelia's love for the Joker that had kept that insane clown safe all these years. He couldn't have bared the look in her eyes, her knowing that he had been the one who had destroyed him. Bruce wondered if the clown realised that at all. Did he know that Bruce had given up on his vow of rehabilitating the monster, years ago? That Batman no longer cared if he lived, rotting in Arkham, or died here tonight? And that the woman the clown stalked was the very one who was responsible for his safety?

Probably not, Bruce realised dimly.

Bruce's priority was getting his wife back safely tonight. And even if she hated him for the rest of their lives, even if after tonight she couldn't stand to look him in the eye or be in the same room as him, Bruce knew what had to be done.

He was breaking his one rule. And tonight the Joker would die.

////

"We need a crash team in here _now_!" the young, red haired nurse cried across the chaotic hospital corridor, her voice straining to be heard.

She wheeled the steel gurney down the corridor, every muscle in her body aching. Her shift was nearly up and now this. Great times.

"Now, _now!_" she cried as she burst through the double doors, "His heart is failing!"

The blonde haired doctor was quick to get up to speed, grabbing the clipboard out of her hands.

"Gun shot victim, roughly late sixties?" he said to himself, "Grab the paddles!"

Ther nurse felt a hot sweat break across the back of her neck as she stared down at the older, pale man on the stretcher.

"He was stable," she murmured, tired and weary, "His heart…"

The doctor grabbed her arm and forced her out of the way as a team of fresher faced nurses and doctors piled into the room.

"We'll take it from here….paddles _now_….we're _loosing_ him,"

The nurse closed her eyes as she pushed her exhausted body through the double doors, letting them swing closed behind her. She was so tired that she decided to get changed at home. Besides she wanted to get away from here. This had been a long shift. And this last one had really got to her.

She had seen the look on the young, dark haired man's face when they had brought in the old man earlier tonight. He looked like _he'd_ been shot. Like if the man died…

The nurse shivered and headed towards the clocking out machine, leaving the sounds of panic from that room behind her. How many people had died in that room?

It was a room of death.

She swiped her card and headed for the exit, craving the smell of the city air and not the smell of blood and disinfectant. The sterile stench that clung to her clothes and stayed in her hair. She knew she would think about the older man tonight as she slept.

She hated it when people died on her watch.


	18. Take a Bow

**A bit of drama now. Hope you like! xxx**

**Take a Bow**

Amelia chocked on fear, feeling it slide into the pit of her stomach. Her face ached from the blow he'd dealt her and inside her mouth was bleeding.

She cast her eyes around the ballroom that had once been a place of her dreams. She remembered watching the women in their beautiful gowns, from her hiding place on the stairs when she'd been a child. She remembered her first dance with her father when she'd been twelve years old.

Her throat closed. She remembered Jack.

He had been sixteen then, blonde haired and looked like a boy conjured by her hormonal imagination from a teenage novel. And he'd liked her.

He'd kissed her. And saved her life.

It was here in this room that they'd danced, laughing, clumsy and awkward, until teenage hormones had got the better of them and their lips had met in a half frantic, bruising kiss. The first time. The sweetest time.

And now as she looked around the room, it was lined down both sides with heavy, metal barrels, filled with fuel, wired to end her life and fill the once magical room with flames to burn away the memories. She had watched him with dead eyes as he'd taken the barrels and deliberately spilled the contents around the room. Now the air was dense with the stench of gasoline, the scent making her nauseous.

She looked at the man across the room and hated the monster he had become. The Joker leaned against the large pane of glass and stared down at the crowds below. He cocked his head to one side as if hearing her hateful thoughts, as though he felt her eyes burning a hole through him.

"It's rude to stare, my sweet!" he sniggered and leaned away from the window, his arms folded across his chest, "Betcha wondering how I got these scars?"

Amelia snorted. Even when they'd been close he'd never told her.

"I don't care how you got them," she sneered at him, "They make no difference any more. You're ugly inside and out!"

The Joker mockingly clutched at his heart. "Ouch ballerina, you got me. Not like I haven't heard _that_ before. If you could think up something original then you might actually do some damage. You have such _conviction_ in your words!"

Amelia looked away. He could still sting, no matter how much she told herself she hated him.

She let her hands fall wearily at her sides. "Well seeing as we're both going to die, you may as well tell me,"

He shrugged and looked over his shoulder, pressing his face close to the glass.

"The dogs are gathering for a fight," he murmured, "I wonder where your precious husband is? Wonder if he's down there…or maybe _tangled_ up somewhere else?"

Amelia let out an exasperated sigh. "Really? You're still trying to make me furious with jealously? Give it a rest, Joker,"

He pushed away from the window using his shoulder until he was squarely on his large feet and stalking towards her.

"I notice how you've stopped calling me 'Jack'," he mused, a grin cracking his painted face, "What's the change?"

Amelia folded her arms defensively, preparing for another blow.

"Jack is the name of the man I loved. And he's quite clearly dead. I call you by _your_ name, _Joker_," she hissed through clenched teeth.

Predictably he produced the knife, but Amelia was no longer afraid. How many times had he threatened her with a knife over the years? She'd lost count. She held her breath as he got closer.

"Well I'm glad you've finally learned some respect," he breathed, "So you've given up on poor old Jackie boy huh?"

Amelia swallowed the lump in her throat. "Jack gave up on me,"

This seemed to speak to him on a deeper level. He twirled the knife between his fingertips, but seemed disinterested. He looked conflicted, distracted.

"He gave up on you?" he repeated the words as though he didn't understand, though he clearly did.

"He never gave me a chance. He tossed me away when it got too complicated. We could have worked through it. I would have done anything for him…" Amelia stumbled over her words, knowing she was dangerously close to breaking again.

She steadied herself. "Anyway, who cares really? You won. Well done,"

He laughed, his eyes blackening.

"You talk like there's two of us, but there has always been only one! Me! The strong one…the one who…."

Amelia raised an eyebrow at his admission. He took a step back as if that would erase the words.

Her heart thudding, she stepped closer.

"The one who…what?" she whispered, "The one who _what_?"

He looked miserable that he'd said too much.

"Tell me Joker…"

"The one who _saved _him!" he spat at her so ferociously, she leaned back reflexively, "The one who made him strong when he was _nothing_….when _you_ reduced him to nothing. He was a shadow….a boy, still pining for his pretty little ballerina…they took everything from him…they took his face…"

Amelia stared at him, her mouth hanging slightly open. She wasn't prepared for this. She wasn't prepared for him to actually tell her. She was used to his ravings that made no sense. For him to open up…it meant he was ready for anything. And that terrified her more than the barrels in the room.

"They took his face…"he murmured, his voice no longer high pitch and frightening. It was broken.

She hated that she wanted to comfort him right now. She hated herself for wanting to wrap her arms around him.

"He was alone in the dark for so long. They sewed up his face and then they didn't come back. All he had were his thoughts. This pretty little girl in his head, in his dreams, driving him insane. I helped him….he would have died if I hadn't…."

He stepped back, covering his face with his hands.

Shock coursing through her, she stepped nearer. She wanted to help him. God, it was possible she still loved him after everything he'd done. But she wanted to live more. And the need, the ache inside to see Bruce again and be a mother to her daughter was stronger.

She was close enough now that she could touch him if she wanted to. Reaching her hand forward, her fingers brushed the material of his coat. Her eyes welled up.

"Jack.." her whisper broke, "I'm so sorry for what happened to you….I want to help you…."

With lightening speed he seized her by the shoulders, his fingers pinching too hard into her already bruised flesh.

"Fire…." He breathed, his face too close to hers, "Fire cleans everything away….and when we're gone, it'll be like we're all brand new. We can start again!"

"No!" she cried, "I have a life here. I want to live _now_. Please, _Jack_, please let me go!"

He shoved her away roughly, but she managed to keep her balance.

"So its Jack again is it?" he snarled at her, "You're a cruel little witch Amelia West!"

Her fear melting momentarily she ran forward and grabbed his sleeve.

"Jack, I have a daughter. Our child! You can't leave her without a mother,"

Once again he shoved her away, harder this time and she skidded to the floor with a thud. He broke into a fit of hysterical giggles.

"I never had a Mother and I turned out just fine…besides she'll be well looked after by your precious millionaire,"

Amelia crawled across the floor and grabbed the leg of his pants.

"No, please!" she would get on her knees and beg if she had to now. He looked like he was getting ready to strike her, his body curling into action, but instead he dropped to his knees, grabbing her upper arms and pulling her closer to him. His eyes were demonic, locked on hers.

"Its not good for a little girl to grow up all confused….in a house where Mommy and Daddy don't really love each other….kids _get_ that you know, they see it….and one day she'll figure it out and you'll tell her and it'll break her heart. And it won't matter how many ponies Bruce will buy her, the pain still won't go away. And she'll get curious about her real daddy and she'll come and find me….and then I'll shove a knife in her throat because just the mere sight of her will piss me off! So by you dying, _now_, you save her all that suffering and her horrible _death_,"

Amelia spluttered at his tirade, wishing he would free her arms.

"You see how my plan is better ballerina?" he hissed at her

"You're insane," she whispered.

"So people keep telling me," he muttered.

"It sounds like an ultimatum..." she thought aloud, "I die now...or she dies later.."

He leaned in towards her face, licking his lips. "And you know you can never hide from me, don't you? I always find you!"

He let her fall to the floor, where she lay too exhausted to fight anymore. Folding his arms he stalked away. Amelia curled her body into a ball, the pain in parts of her body, so intense they almost burned. She no longer had a choice. It was always going to end this way. And she had to protect her daughter.

There was no use crying, no use screaming.

Wearily she lifted herself up into a sitting position and the sight before her filled her with a newborn terror she had never known existed. Her fate was in his hands.

The Joker was grinning at her, a lighted match burning between his fingertips.

"Take a bow, sweetheart," he said, letting his tongue run across his bottom lip, "Shows over,"

Her scream was lost in the sound that filled the room; it was like a deafening roar that blazed through her senses. All at once she could feel the heat, searing, clawing at her delicate skin.

Her eyes streamed, they stung and it was difficult to see. She couldn't even see him anymore; he was lost in the flames.

She whirled around, death coming for her, closer every second. The fear was choking her and in her mind someone was frantically calling her name. Above her there was a crumbling, bellowing noise and dust particles filled the air.

In a haze she turned towards the hatch door that led down to the lower floor. The secret stairway. That door was blocked; she had watched him do it.

But someone _was_ calling her name.

"_Amelia_!" the voice was frantic, whoever it was pounding on that hatch door.

It was too hot to breath. She stumbled forward. It felt like her skin was melting away, she wondered if was going to be much longer before she passed out.

"Amelia can you hear me?" the scream came again and she fell on her knees, dizzy from heat by the hatch door.

"Bruce!" she cried, her heart swelling, "Bruce I can't get out!"

"Try to pull it open from your side," he screamed, no demanded. He had to get her out.

Exhausted, Amelia found the handle and tugged, her muscles betraying her. She was weak from the heat.

"Bruce…I can't…its too hot!" her voice faltered, turning to almost hysterical, "Bruce you have to get out of here….when the flames hit the barrels…"

"_No_!" he pounded on the other side, his voice breaking, "Amelia the floor will be weak from the fire, if I try and blast it….the floor will cave…you'll be crushed!"

She could feel the sweat pouring down her back. Her vision was failing her.

"Then get out!" she cried, "Don't stay Bruce….you have to save yourself!"

"Not _without_ you!" he cried desperately, "I love you, I'm so sorry for everything…"

"Get out _now_…Bruce you _can't_ die here…don't waste anymore time…"

She glanced over her shoulder and saw the flames licking dangerously close to one of the barrels. Her heart lurched.

"Bruce go!" she screamed.

"_I will not go anywhere without you!_"

There was a noise behind her, something that sounded like a voice but the roar of the blaze was deafening.

Jack was standing in the middle of the flames. His coat was gone. He stared about him wildly, as if he'd just woken up from a bad dream.

"Ballerina…" his voice was nothing but a cracked whisper, broken, lost.

Amelia breathed hard and fought back her need to scream hysterically.

This was always the way it was going to end wasn't it? Her heart broken in two, she leaned closer to the hatch. The thought of him suffering alone in the fire was almost too much and she welled up.

"Bruce….I love you," tears blurred her vision, "But I have to say goodbye…I'm so so sorry,"

She heard his anguished cry on the other side of the door. It broke her heart in two.

"I'm not leaving you….I'm never giving up!" he yelled.

"Tell Libby…tell her about me….don't let her forget about me,"

"Why are you saying this?" he cried, his voice barely audible now above the flames, "Don't give up….I _need_ you!"

Amelia choked and looked at the vision in the flames. He looked so confused, so lost. Her heart twisted in her chest. There was no way out and the acceptance of that fact washed over her like a wave. She was prepared for death now. But the man lost in the flames had no idea at what he'd just unleashed. Maybe fire could erase everything, she wondered dimly. Maybe this would give him peace at last. His eyes met hers across the room and she saw how scared he was.

"He needs me more," she whispered.

She got up, her body protesting. The heat scorched her skin as she ducked through the flames. Blinded by searing, raging heat, her breath coming in bursts, every once of oxygen sucked out of the room, her hands sought his. Their fingers entwined and he pulled her closer.

Through her haze, she saw that his makeup was nearly all but gone, melted to nothing on his once beautiful face. She placed her hand on his face and he wrapped her arm around her waist pulling her to her knees.

"You came back for me," he choked, his voice like the old Jack, "Why?"

Amelia blinked through her tears. The flames were too near now. Her skin was peeling back, revealing red angry welts. She couldn't look. It would all be over.

Soon, she preyed, soon.

"She throws herself into the fire doesn't she?" she whispered shakily, "The ballerina….because she loves him,"

He leaned closer and pressed his forehead to hers. Amelia choked and wrapped her arms around him protectively.

"Its all going to be fine," she said softly pushing back his damp hair with her hands, "Its all going to be fine…."

Then the pain was too much. It was beyond screaming. Beyond anything she'd ever felt before. It was crippling, paralyzing, she could neither move nor cry out.

The flames slithered towards the barrels, engulfing it in pure heat. The blast made everything red but they didn't feel it.

The agony was over.


	19. Endings

**Ok this is nearly it! Hope you are still all enjoying. This isn't the end by the way, in case the title is confusing. We still have two chapters! xx**

**Endings**

Over on the other side of town, an older greyer man peered around into his spare bedroom. He smiled softly at the sleeping little girl, all tucked up in a blanket. She looked so like her mother, so peaceful. He wondered if she would ever find out the truth of her parentage. Her grim legacy.

Lucious closed the door and padded quietly into the living room. Something at the window caught his attention. He didn't live far from Millionaire's row and had been keenly watching the news all night, anxious after Mr Wayne had dropped Liberty here tonight.

His mouth went dry and his heart lurched in his chest. He pried the window open with his old hands and stared out at the Gotham skyline. Against the black lit night, flames scorched the air, like the devil clawing his way up to the gods.

////

The nurse hadn't been able to sleep. Restless and anxious, she had gotten dressed and came back to work. Sometimes when your job was all you had, it was hard to leave it behind. Besides she kept thinking about that dark haired man, and his sad eyes.

She remembered sitting with her own grandfather before he died and how she couldn't have bared the thought of him being alone. Everyone needed someone.

"Hey," the blonde haired doctor called when he saw her in the locker room, "That patient of yours tonight pulled through…strong as an Ox that one!"

She breathed an audible sigh of relief, catching the lift before it closed.

She had a feeling that the old guy would want some company when he woke up.

////

Bruce was choking. Thick, black lungfuls of smoke engulfed him. He was face down, the tremor from the blast above knocking him to his knees.

He had to find his strength. The building was crumbling around him.

Despair and grief suffocated him worse than the smoke. How could he even begin to think about saving himself before he saved her?

He struggled to his knees, every ounce of his energy put into moving forward. Something from above groaned and cracked and Bruce had barely a second to react. The pain in his back was blinding and suddenly he found the floor was racing to meet him again.

He slipped in and out of a daze, realising that something heavy had fallen on him from above. In his daze, he could remember their wedding day. He had been so happy, so blissfully content that day. Grief erupted from him in a roar, yet the object pinning him to the ground refused to budge.

"Amelia….this isn't real…" his voice was lost, like it didn't belong to him. It belonged to a shadow that was once called Bruce Wayne. Now he was nothing. He had no home, where she wasn't. If she didn't live, then how could he?

"Bruce….get up….come on!" the voice was soft, but it wasn't her. The weight that held him frozen was suddenly gone. He heard someone breathing hard above him. Someone grabbed him under his arms.

"_Walk Bruce_! Can you walk?" the voice commanded, "Come on…you _can't _die here!"

And he was walking. Because she was making him walk. It was her strength he used to move forward.

"Amelia's alive…" he garbled, half dazed.

"We have to get you out!" the voice insisted, "Come on….the stairs…move!"

Dust floated around them. A door clanged open and they were in the stair well, their feet hurrying down the concrete steps.

"Don't slow up now…" her voice was soothing, "We're nearly out!"

Air. Fresh, lungfuls of air greeted him as they crashed through a fire exit door when the stairs finally stopped. He felt the arms release him and he fell, weakly to the ground. He rolled onto his back, gulping in oxygen, his vision beginning to clear.

"Amelia…where are you?"

"Bruce…" the voice was sad, reluctant, "Its Sarah,"

The face appeared before him was a broken reflection of the girl who used to call herself Sarah. Her face was red, swollen, her eyes black and ringed with black make up, streaked down her face from where she'd cried so hard.

"Sarah," he whispered, "Where is _she_?"

The younger girl's eyes filled with tears. "I don't know…Oh, Bruce…I'm sorry,"

"You have to save her!" his breathing was ragged.

The girl looked away. "The building is collapsing," she said.

"She can't die in there!"

"I have to go….I did what I came to do,"

Bruce tried to hold her there. He wanted to scream at her to get back in that building. He wanted to tell her that it was she that should be burning alive and not his beautiful wife. But he couldn't move. His voice was failing him and he knew he was going to pass out soon.

The girl leaned closer to him and kissed his dry lips.

"Remember that I came back Bruce," she whispered against his mouth, "Remember that I _did_ come back,"

Suddenly she was gone and he was alone in the dark, unable to move, unable even to find out where he was.

Choking, his heart betraying him, he let out a howl and sobbed into the darkness.

////

Officer Davies watched as the fire truck tore closer to them down the narrow street, already littered with cop cars. He wondered what use it would do now.

Sadly he looked at the commissioner. He was sitting in the car, staring blankly ahead as if searching for an answer in the void. The blast had been tremendous, knocking out nearly every pane of glass in the building. There were many casualties on the ground from fallen debris as there were inside the building. It was a miracle that they had managed to evacuate so many people before the blast. If the commissioner hadn't sent for that Bomb disposal unit, they would have probably been looking at a massacre.

The unit had managed to rig a controlled explosion, and then they could get out most of the residents that lived in the building.

They were surrounded in shattered glass, the ground iced in it. Davies glanced at Gordon, his heart heavy and wondered how long it would take the older man to recover from this incident. He'd been through so much.

Davies looked up sharply, something black streaking across his peripheral vision. He turned in the direction of another tall building. He gasped. In the shadows, up high on a balcony ledge, a figure standing there, watching them all below.

He stepped forward and the figure in black had disappeared. In years to come, when he would tell his friends of this night, they would laugh at him and say that he was seeing things, his vision askew from the blast.

But he knew that he had seen a woman with blonde hair, dressed head to toe in black.

It was the last time anyone saw The Cat again.


	20. After You've Gone

**Hi everyone thanks to those who read and reviewed!! This is not the last one, but the next one will be, so I really hope you're still enjoying it. I wonder if any of you will get the reference to another DC comic's character, who will be very important in the future. Let me know if you do get it.**

**I own none of the DC Comic characters.**

**Thanks!!**

**After You've Gone**

Bruce watched blankly, feeling nothing but pure agony as he stood on the steps of the cathedral. His stomach churned, bile rising in this throat as the hearse pulled in slowly through the wrought iron gates.

_Haven't I done this before?_ He closed his eyes as it drew closer, the wind whipping through his short dark hair. Fists clenched he drew himself up to his full height, feeling the heat from over a hundred photographers eyes on his face as he stepped down to meet it.

_I'm burying my wife_, he tried to force the voice out of his head, _I'm putting her in the ground. In the dark. In the cold._

Blood rushed to his ears as tremors that had begun slowly, began to violently take hold of his body. His vision blurred and his heart felt like it was tearing through his ribcage.

Bruce turned away, deathly white, gulping in fresh air as though he was being oxygen deprived. Since being pinned under that beam, the smoke contaminating every pure particle in his lungs and the building crumbling around him, he'd been waking in the night.

Bruce Wayne was having panic attacks! Batman was having nightmares. It sounded absurd, but it was happening to him every day, leaving him feeling drained and half dead. He'd spent the last two weeks in a living, breathing coma, unable to even form a coherent sentence half the time. And it didn't help that he had Libby to deal with. His irritable, impatient daughter who couldn't understand where her Mother had gone. And he didn't even have Alfred on hand to take care of her.

Every morning she'd woken him with the same, heart wrenching questions and no matter how hard he tried to explain, he saw her little eyebrows pull into a frown, not willing to accept or understand. And almost as if she were suffering with memory lost, she would begin the torture again the next day, as if he would suddenly change his answer.

He wanted to be strong for her. He wanted to comfort her. But every time he looked at her, he couldn't see Amelia anymore, just the Joker. Libby developed and changed on a daily basis and in the last two weeks it was like she was taking on these strange new personality traits. Her facial expressions, even her laugh, reminded Bruce of him.

It was like Amelia was being wiped out in front of his eyes, every trace of her, everything that he loved vanishing in smoke. Bruce even started to imagine that this was what the Joker had planned from the beginning. He knew on some level, he was just imagining things and he loved his daughter.

And she would never be like him.

"Its snowing, Master Bruce," an old voice murmured beside him, "I told you that it was going to snow,"

Bruce, abruptly aware that he was being watched by the paparazzi, glanced down at the man in the wheelchair beside him. Alfred, whose hair had turned a new shade of white in the last two weeks, handed him up a pair of leather gloves.

Bruce took them, fighting down the lump in his throat. "You made it….I didn't think they would let you out in this weather,"

Alfred's face crinkled when he smiled. "I've got my bodyguard," he nodded to a red headed young woman, standing awkwardly by the cathedral doors. She had her arms folded across her chest and was stamping her feet to keep warm.

Bruce raised an eyebrow and threw Alfred a sceptical look.

"She's a bit young for you, old man," he almost laughed. Almost.

Alfred tutted. "She's a student nurse. She was there when I was taken in and was there when I woke up. She's a sweetheart,"

"What's her name?"

"Katherine Grayson," he answered sounding far away. The hearse was being reversed so that the pall bearers could easily access the coffin, and Bruce was glad of the distraction.

"I'm glad Libby's not here," Bruce muttered, looking away sharply as the wooden box carrying the woman he loved was lifted into the arms of four men. White roses littered the top of the coffin and Bruce knew he was at breaking point.

"You know they couldn't really identify her properly," Bruce hissed through clenched teeth, his eyes red and glassy, "They only knew it was her because of the jewellery she was wearing…her wedding ring,"

Alfred's gloved hand gripped his ice cold one. "Not _here_, boy," he pleaded, "Bruce, please not here. Not in front of those dogs,"

Bruce nodded.

"Who told you that?" Alfred whispered, his voice scathing as the coffin passed them.

"Gordon told Batman," Bruce replied stiffly, "He got to hear all the gory details,"

"Oh, Bruce,"

"Its Ok Alfred," Bruce patted the older man's shoulder, "I'm Ok….lets get this done,"

////

There was no wake. Bruce couldn't stand the pretence. The ground at the gravesite was covered in white and pink roses and a soft falling of snow. The sun glinted off the fresh flakes and even he had to marvel at how beautiful it looked.

Commissioner Gordon was the first person to approach Bruce after the coffin was lowered into the grave. The older, drained looking man shook his hand warmly.

"You're wife was beautiful and kind," Gordon said through clenched teeth, "I can't tell you the guilt I feel that we let this happen,"

Bruce put his hand on Gordon's shoulder. "You didn't do this. You've always been there for Amelia…and me. Don't put this on yourself,"

Bruce didn't want to spend another minute, nodding and smiling politely and accepting condolences. He certainly didn't want to spend another second easing Gordon's guilty conscience. Not that he blamed Gotham Police one bit. He just didn't want to burden himself any longer with their sadness.

He wanted to go home. To be alone, in the dark, away from prying eyes seemed like bliss right now.

One by one the mourners left and all that remained were Bruce, Alfred and his new friend Katherine. They were standing by the Limo that Bruce had ordered for them.

Katherine looked embarrassed and uncomfortable by it, she stared at the beautiful car in wonder, as though she shouldn't be anywhere near it.

"Bruce," Alfred beckoned him as he got closer to them, "This is Katherine Grayson, my nurse at Gotham General,"

Bruce bestowed her with a genuinely warm smile. "You know I think I remember you, when we brought the old guy in," Bruce said and her face cracked with a shy smile.

"Yes, I remember you," she replied, "Though I'm shocked you remembered anything; you were in bits that night,"

Bruce shivered at the memory. "Yes," he murmured, shrugging his shoulders and folding his hands under his arms to keep warm, "Well Alfred is loving all the attention anyway….thank you so much for taking care of him,"

Katherine shrugged her shoulders, embarrassed.

"So you're a student?," he coaxed and she nodded.

"Yeah….an old one!"

Bruce laughed. "I wasn't referring to your age!"

"Katherine has a three year old son that lives with his Grandmother in Basin City," Alfred interrupted, "She's saving up and studying nursing at the same time so that she can bring him here,"

Bruce raised his eyebrows. "I don't blame you. Basin City is not the best place for a child!"

The image of Sarah floated through his mind. He remembered meeting her when she was a wilful teenager. She was bruised, hard faced and a royal pain. But she'd been through hell and back. That town twisted you up and spat you out to the dogs.

It had taken Amelia so long to break down the stone wall that Sarah had built to protect herself, from predators.

"We need to get you back to the hospital," Katherine told Alfred urgently, her hands were purple from cold. Bruce noticed the thin, bobbled coat she was wearing and winced inwardly.

Alfred sighed and took both of Bruce's bare hands in his. Bruce knelt in front of him, but couldn't look the old man quite in the eye. If he did, that would be the end of his taught composure.

Alfred pulled him closer. "I love you boy," he whispered and Bruce bit down on his lip. Composure gone. His face crumpled and Alfred pulled him in, holding him tightly as he sobbed.

"Oh, my poor Bruce," Alfred's voice shook, "Heaven only knows where you find you're strength,"

Embarrassed to have lost control with Katherine watching, Bruce pulled away. She was looking away discretely, her face pained with sympathy.

"I have you," Bruce told the man who he had loved as much as his own father. He stood up and watched as Katherine helped lift Alfred into the limousine. He saw her strap him in, a loving, sweet look in her eyes as she smiled down at him. She made some kind of remark and Alfred laughed at whatever it was she had said.

Bruce waited until she shut his door, when he stepped toward her again.

"Uhh…Katherine…may I have a word?" he called and he saw her pale, freckly face crinkle with worry. She rubbed her arms, walking towards him and once again he noticed the worn, leather boots she was wearing, barely able to last her through this winter.

Up close, he noticed she was pretty, in a soft, freckly way, her red hair wild against her creamy pale skin. She had pale, intense blue eyes, framed with dense black lashes. The makeup she wore was patchy and he noticed that she didn't smell of any recognisable perfume. He thought in the years he had been married to Amelia, he knew all the brands, her dressing table literally stocked with pretty bottles and cosmetics. The thought of having to clear them away soon made him feel suddenly sick.

Katherine was staring at him intently, rubbing her gloveless hands together for warmth. Bruce noticed her short, bitten nails and that they were turning blue.

"Here," he handed her the gloves Alfred had given him and that he had shoved in his coat pocket, "I don't feel it that much,"

She beamed. "Thank you! What was it you wanted to speak to me about?"

Bruce shoved his hands in his pockets awkwardly.

"Well….I was wondering…this is going to sound a bit crazy…seeing as we have only just met…" he was stuttering a little and she was smiling kindly at him.

Katherine thought he was adorable. So handsome and something about him so childlike. She was mentally trying to judge the age gap and decided that she must be nearly the same age as him, if a little older, but then she stopped herself. She was having inappropriate thoughts at his wife's funeral.

"Its just that…well Alfred will be released from hospital soon and I have a huge business to run. I was planning on hiring someone to care for him while I cant be there and after meeting you today, your situation seems quite perfect,"

She stared at him as though he were speaking another language, her mouth slightly open.

"My situation?" she repeated and he realised that he wasn't being very clear.

"Well Alfred has obviously taken quite a liking to you and I don't blame him," he pretended he hadn't seen her blush crimson, "And I have a huge, _huge_ home. We practically don't even see each other…"

"Are you asking me to _live_ with you?" she gaped at him, almost spluttering.

"Well not live with _me_! It's a job offer…you take care of Alfred and you can continue your studying. Think of all the money you'll save on rent. And you can bring your son home,"

At the last bit, she shook her head and held out her hands, a grin on her face.

"Hold on, I'm confused," she laughed, "You want me to move into your _mansion_, pay me to take care of your butler. And I can bring my son?"

Bruce hoped that he hadn't overstepped the mark. That it didn't sound like charity.

"It's a job offer…not _pity_! And besides, I have a two year old daughter, you have a son the same age…it could be good for them. I grew up alone, after my parents died and that house is a lonely place for a kid, believe me. You would be doing me a huge service if you would consider it,"

It was a moment before Katherine spoke again.

"Mr Wayne…I'm speechless. No one….so kind…. you don't know anything about me. Aren't you worried I could be an axe murderer or something?"

Bruce smiled thinly. "Oh, I think I could take you. Besides the old man is a good judge of character and I trust him,"

Katherine laughed. "He was right about you. You _are _selfless. I'll think about it, thank you so much!"

He watched her turn, still shaking her head in disbelief as she headed back for the Limo. She shut the door behind her and Bruce saw Alfred lean to peer out through the window.

Alfred smiled at Bruce lovingly as the car pulled away through the snow.

Bruce stood there for a moment, his hands deep in his coat pockets, the warmth from his good deed evaporating slowly. It would be a long time before he could be as selfless as Amelia had been.

_Amelia._

Bruce closed his eyes, delaying the moment when he to would climb back into his own car and make the long drive home. Back to a hollow empty house that was so full of her that it made him breathless. Where he would see her in everything he touched, hear her laughter in the hallways and feel her body next to his in the bed they shared.

He could delay no longer. He needed to return home and grieve for his wife.

////

**One Month Later**

"Libby!" Bruce's voice boomed across the courtyard, "_Liberty Wayne_! If you throw that I'm going to be extremely…."

It was too late. Giggling, pink cheeked with a sly, wicked gleam in her eye, Libby pelted across the snow and dumped a large handful of fluffy white down the back of the small, dark haired boy. The little boy's eyes widened and then he let out a wail, his cheeks flaming in temper. He got up and ran towards Bruce at full speed.

Bruce picked him up awkwardly, still not quite at home with his new little guest and the sudden liking the boy had taken to him. Bruce patted his back as he screamed into Bruce's shirt front. Bruce shot his daughter a dark look.

"Didn't throw it," she answered the look, her mouth curling up into a grin and Bruce failed to suppress a laugh. She raced across the courtyard and grabbed his legs.

Bruce stroked her head with his free hand.

"I told you to be nice to Richard," Bruce said to her, "We have to make him feel at home here. You want him to like it here don't you?"

Libby pouted. "He won't play with me!"

Bruce sat the boy down on the steps. He rubbed his pink face, looking completely miserable.

The Graysons had pulled up in a removal van only this morning. Bruce had watched from the upper floor balcony as the little boy had climbed out of the van, his face a mixture of shock and wonder. What kind of moment must it be for a kid from Basin City to come to a mansion out of a fairytale? Knowing that this was going to be your home? That you could have the run of the grounds, aches of woodland to explore?

Bruce had never had that experience because he had lived in that dream world, as had Amelia.

The look on Richard's face had almost broken Bruce's heart. He had greeted them at the door, Katherine pink cheeked and beaming at him.

"Oh Bruce!" she wailed flinging her arms around his neck, "This house is….amazing…we are so, so grateful!"

"You're doing me a favour remember?" he joked and knelt down to the tiny boy and held out his hand. Richard took his timidly and Bruce shook it.

"Nice to meet you Richard!" he said pleasantly.

Richard opened his mouth. "Does a princess live here?" he whispered.

Bruce felt a twinge in his chest. He swallowed.

"Not any more," he replied quietly, "But another little girl does, my daughter Libby. Would you like to meet her?"

Richard nodded thoughtfully and Bruce thought he could love him instantly. He was so small and adorable. And even though he was a year older than Libby, she towered over him.

After the disastrous snow incident, Bruce led Libby and Richard back into the house. Alfred had been watching from his chair at the window and laughed when he saw Bruce's pained expression.

"A bit of snow won't hurt him," Alfred chided, "You worry too much!"

Bruce watched as Libby grabbed Richard's hand and dragged him into the hallway. Richard was in awe of her and looked helpless.

"Are you kidding?" Bruce raked his hands through his short, dark hair, "She's going to eat him alive,"

Alfred chuckled, wheeling himself out of the alcove by the window. "He'll be fine. Trust me I know these things. He's a lot like you were,"

Bruce folded his arms. "I was never _that_ small. Where's Katherine?"

"Upstairs unpacking," Alfred wheeled himself towards the living room and Bruce followed. He would have offered to push him but he knew how Alfred hated him doing it. The only one he allowed to push him was Katherine and only because she ignored everything he said, especially his whining about being in the chair for the six months it would take for his back to mend.

When they were in the living room, Alfred automatically began to stoke the fire that was heating the room, until Bruce prised the poker out of his hands. Alfred shot him a look.

"Stop whining and get used to it," Bruce joked, "It's the only time in your life I've ever looked after you!"

They sat in silence for a while. It was a big day for both of them. The house had sat lonely and empty for a month, Bruce unable to face spending long, cold nights there, spending most of the time at his new city apartment.

Now it would be filled again and although it was painful, it needed to happen. The house had lost Amelia too and it almost like it too was in mourning for her.

Bruce had kept her here, in photographs, in the paintings she'd chosen, in the wallpaper she'd hung. He didn't want that to ever change.

"It's a good, noble thing you're doing Master Bruce," Alfred leaned across and touched his hand, "She would be so proud of you,"

"I miss her," Bruce said, the words tearing from his throat, "I don't want Libby to forget her,"

"She wont," Alfred promised, "I won't let her!"

The words hung in the air for a while until Alfred cleared his throat.

"I think about that night all the time," he whispered, "And there is still one thing I don't understand…."

Bruce looked up at him, the pain and anguish still fresh in his eyes. "What?"

"I don't understand why she….gave in. Why didn't she keep fighting him?"

Bruce let out a long sigh. It was a question he had asked himself over and over this past month. He thought he had finally found an answer. At least one he could live with.

"She fought him Alfred," he began, his voice barely above a whisper, "I thought at first, she chose him over me. It seemed that way. I knew she still loved him. And how could she not? Everything that had been good about him is in Libby and she saw that everyday. They had a bond, a connection that I could never argue with. He saved her life and he was her first, true love. And you know the thing about first loves? You never really stop loving them. And when the time came, when he needed her the most, she chose to stay with him,"

Alfred was staring into the open window, tears rolling down his old face.

"She was closing the deal. By dying _with _him, she was making sure that he could never come back again, to hurt her family. He needed her more than we do, and she knew that,"

Bruce watched through the window, two little figures running through the snow and he smiled to himself, thinking of Rachel, thinking of Amelia and hoping that wherever she was, wherever _they_ were, they were happy.


	21. Seventeen

**Hey everyone, apologies for the long absence, again. Thanks to all those who have reviewed. I thought this was going to be the last chapter, but after some rethinking I decided that I cant just end the story that abruptly, so there will be a few more chapters to come yet. Enjoy! xx**

**Seventeen**

Libby held her breath, shifting her position on the top of the staircase that swept downwards towards the marbled hallway below. Feeling a chill pass across her shoulders she hugged her dressing gown tightly around her. It was dark down there but she wasn't afraid. Liberty Wayne wasn't afraid of anything. She had a steely resolve and nonchalant view of the world. People often commented on how detached she was, on what a strong character she possessed. But that only made her laugh. How could she have ever have grown up normally? She was Liberty Wayne. Her father was an ex playboy and billionaire and her Mother….

There was a noise somewhere and Libby exhaled. A door opened somewhere, softly, as though the intruder were taking great care not to be heard.

But she knew this was not an intruder.

She felt soft footsteps beside her and someone squeezed in beside her on the top step. Libby turned her blonde head and narrowed her eyes at the round faced, brown haired young man sitting next to her.

"Am I too late?" he whispered and Libby grinned wickedly.

"He's about to make an appearance, I'm sure of it!"

Richard, her life long play mate and best friend folded his arms across his chest and let out a sigh. "We shouldn't really be doing this….spying on your Dad…"

Libby rolled her eyes. She knew that Richard loved her father like he was his own. They'd always had a deep connection, right from the moment Richard and his mother had moved in here. When Katherine had passed away, after a decade of fighting leukaemia, the bond had strengthened. But Richard also loved Libby, more than he cared to let on and against her strong will, he was powerless.

"You know he's been up to something!" she accused, "Who knows how long for? Alfred's in on it too,"

"Well shouldn't we just confront him this time rather than just sitting here like spies? I don't feel comfortable lying to him,"

"He's the one that's lying!" Libby hissed, "And that whiny tone in your voice is really starting to irritate me,"

Stung, Richard sat back on the step, watching her stony profile half lit from the large window that sat directly behind them, the moonlight pooling on the hallway below, waiting to illuminate their victim.

Libby was beautiful, in a hard faced, cold way. Other kids at school said nasty things about her. She was an ice queen, a snob, cruel and evasive. But he knew those things weren't true. So what if she preferred her own company? So what if she didn't socialise with other girls and sat alone at lunch? Who cared if she had no interest in running for Homecoming Queen or that she didn't want to contribute to the year book?

She was Liberty Wayne and was one of the most photographed and written about teenagers in Gotham City. Her lineage was something to be marvelled at. Her mother had been known as 'Gotham's Princess'. Her grandmother had been a famous actress. And as much as she detested it, every time she set foot outside the safety of Wayne Manor, she was stalked by photographers. Some wrote terrible things about her, what she wore; they caught her with no makeup on.

Wayne Manor was the only place that was really safe for her and now Richard wondered if she were inventing some mystery involving her father, just to keep her from slowly going insane.

"Don't sulk Richard," she whispered suddenly, bringing him out of his thoughts. He hadn't realised that he had been staring at her that whole time. It was hard not to stare. He was eighteen years old and she was adorable. Seeing her in the morning made his stomach churn. Knowing that she slept in the next room, only meters away, drove him crazy.

"Well….where is he?" he chided her softly, "Tell me, do you actually _ever_ plan to confront him or just keep doing this every night?"

Ignoring his jibe, Libby pulled her knees up to her chest, resting her chin on them.

"I just want to know what he's doing Rich," she said more to herself than to him, "Maybe I can finally get to know him…maybe it'll explain all the lies, all the secrets,"

"What exactly do you think he's doing?" Richard wanted to laugh, "I mean Lib….you caught him a few months ago at four in the morning in the kitchen…so what?"

She stared at him like he'd gone insane. His loyalty to her father drove her crazy sometimes. She couldn't understand why he was so unwilling to see anything wrong!

"Richard….he was stitching himself up! What normal person does that? You should have seen the blood on him; it was everywhere….and that's not the only thing…"

"Enlighten me," Richard said drily.

"One time I saw Alfred pop his shoulder back in place, they didn't know I was watching….and then once when I was ten I ran into his bedroom while he was getting dressed and I saw…." her voice trailed off, lost in the memory. She hadn't really been sure of what she'd seen. Up until that point she knew that she had never seen her father's body before. She had never seen him with his shirt off or even in a dressing gown. But that moment when she was a child, she knew that he'd hidden his body from her. Always the high collars and sleeves right down to his wrists. Even on a hot day in the house he wore a shirt. On that morning when she had carelessly ran in to tell him that Alfred needed him in the kitchen and he'd been walking across the room with his back to her.

"He was covered in scars Richard," she said tonelessly, "His back was covered in deep, twisted scars….it was horrible,"

"What did he say?" Richard asked, his eyebrows knitted together. He had forgotten that they were supposed to be listening out for Bruce. He had forgotten all, enthralled in the story.

"He didn't say anything. He just picked his shirt up off the bed and put it on, his eyes keeping hold of mine. He never said anything," Libby let out a long breath, "I'm telling you, whatever is going on, has been going on for years and I'm sick of the lying. I'm sick of him sleeping the day away!"

"So," Richard clasped his hands together around his own knees, "What's your theory? Do you even have one?"

"I've gone over and over it in my head and thought of all the reasons why someone could be sewing up their own arm in their own kitchen, but nothing fits,"

"What was his excuse when you saw him doing that?"

Libby laughed. "He said he'd fallen over on the gravel taking out the trash….at _four_ in the morning!"

Richard chuckled at that too. They sat in silence for what seemed like an eternity. When the clock in the hallway chimed four they both jumped out of their skin, then broke into fits of giggles. Feeling the chill in the air, Libby linked her arm through his and shuffled closer.

"Why don't we just go to bed?" Richard yawned and Libby jumped.

"_Bed?_ What?_ Richard_!" she spluttered and he rolled his eyes.

"I mean our own beds!" he corrected dryly, laughing at her girlish reaction, "We have to be up at seven and need I remind you of your History test tomorrow,"

Libby stifled a yawn, conceding that maybe he wasn't going to make an appearance tonight and she was dead tired.

Richard got to his feet and pulled her up beside him. "It sucks that you're going to school on your birthday. But I'm sure Alfred will have a cake ready for you when you get home tomorrow night!"

She shrugged and followed him down the hall, shoving her hands in her pockets.

"I hope you got me something exciting!" she chided him, stopping at her door, grinning sweetly at her life long partner in crime. He leaned closer and kissed her forehead.

"Well…you'll have to wait and see, love you,"

She smiled and found the doorknob with her hand. "You too,"

She watched him disappear down the darkened hallway, giving him a brief wave before he shut his door. At that very moment there was a noise from back down the hallway, in the direction of the staircase. She stiffened and stared into the darkness, her eyes searching the shadows. Someone was watching her. She felt every hair stand to attention on her body.

_It's just the dark. Just the dark that's all. _She told herself sternly. She swallowed, her heart lurching in her chest. Every second that ticked by felt like an endless moment where she was paralysed to the spot. Finally her hand made the doorknob work and she backed into her bedroom, shutting the door behind her. Breathing hard, she wiped her brow and realised she was sweating. She laughed to herself.

The only time she was truly scared was when she slept. When she dreamed.

Maybe she could feel fear after all.

////

"Happy Birthday baby!" Bruce's voice echoed down the cell phone. Libby shuffled into a sitting position in bed.

"Dad where are you?" she asked, "You sound all tinny!"

"Oh, I'm in the office," he said pleasantly, "I had to pop in early this morning. But I'm going to pick you up from school later today and we'll go to Gusto's for dinner, how does that sound?"

"Great!" she lied through clenched teeth. She imagined the hoard of paparazzi camped outside the most elaborate and expensive restaurant in Gotham watching while they ate "Lets not get a window seat though!"

He laughed. "I can't believe your seventeen years old, it's gone so fast!"

"Don't go all weepy Dad….I've still got Alfred to contend with and you know how sentimental he gets,"

Bruce chuckled. "Just humour him. Oh and by the way, your birthday present is in the driveway,"

"What! Oh my God Dad!" Libby leapt out of bed and raced to the French doors, flinging them open, the cool fresh air hitting her in the face.

She had dropped the cell on the bed but Bruce could make out her squeal of excitement. He could hear her bouncing up and down. He had lied before, from his position below the house in the cave, the signal wasn't so good. It was lucky that she believed him. After last night and having to wait for the two of them to finally go to bed, he was sure that the time had come where he would have to tell her everything.

He'd been up early trailing through CCTV footage from a Gotham bank that had been broken into. It seemed that yet another, strange criminal had been drawn to Gotham and he wanted to keep an eye on this one.

He hoped that he could delay in the inevitable for a while longer.

"Daddy!" she squealed down the phone, "I love it thank you!"

He smiled. The only time she called him 'daddy' was when he bought her something she really wanted.

"Well, no driving it for a while. You need to have lessons,"

"Cant Richard teach me?" she pleaded.

"No!" he didn't relish the thought of his daughter and hormonal Richard Grayson alone in a car together, "I can teach you, and you'll just have to wait,"

She recognised his stern voice, a voice that wouldn't be bargained with.

"Fine….I'll see you tonight,"

After she hung up the phone she flopped back down on the bed face down, wishing she had gone to bed at a reasonable hour last night.

Her bedroom door opened and Alfred popped his head around the corner.

"I take it from the screams of delight you have seen the Porsche with a big red bow on waiting in the front drive?" he teased bringing her breakfast tray to the bedside table.

"You didn't have to make me breakfast in bed!" she grinned, staring hungrily down at the tempting plate of bacon and eggs that was wafting nicely up at her.

Alfred leaned and kissed her head. "Happy Birthday sweetheart!"

Libby wrapped her arms around his old shoulders. "Thank you!"

"Here's your post," he dropped a few letters and some coloured envelopes on the bed sheet, "Master Richard is having breakfast downstairs so you come down when you're ready,"

Libby yawned and waited for Alfred to leave before rifling through her post. One was a card from the Gordon family, another from Bruce's PA. It was a disappointing lack of cards. But then she mused, she had a disappointing lack of friends, through her own lack of personality and her unwillingness to bond with other girls her own age.

She had tried over the years, but it always ended up the same. They were jealous of her; they said nasty things behind her back. Libby had given up on friends a long time ago.

She picked up the last card, a pale orange envelope, with her name and address scrawled messily on the front. The card was slightly damp, and she lifted it to her nose, surprised to discover it smelled…old. It was slightly bent out of shape too but shrugging she tore it open. Inside she was greeted by a bright purple card with no greeting on the front. She narrowed her eyes and opened it reading the messy, inky writing.

_**So you're seventeen huh?**_

_**Don't you ever get the feeling someone is lying to you and that you don't belong?**_

_**Would you like to know who you really are, my pretty little ballerina?**_

_**B665678**_

_**Love J xx**_

Open-mouthed, Libby stared down at the writing. She shivered, suddenly not hungry anymore and shaking off the odd feeling the words that caused she got up to get showered and dressed. It was a prank. Someone at school was being extra cruel thinking up a new way to make her suffer. She rinsed the soap out of her hair, her fingers shaking slightly as she reached for the bottle of conditioner.

Then why did she feel like someone had just read her mind? Like someone knew her deepest, most secret thoughts?

She dressed hurriedly, aware that she was now late and quickly applied her makeup. Without really thinking she picked up the purple card still on the bed, and tucked it into her coat pocket.

"Libby!" Richard called up the stairs, "Get a move on birthday girl,"

Libby walked quickly down the hallway and stopped on the top step. For some reason she always stopped here, every morning, like a ritual. She gripped the banister with her hand, feeling like she was going to fall. Always that feeling of falling. She didn't know where it came from, only that she knew that maybe a long time ago, she had fallen down these stairs. She'd asked Alfred about it once but he hadn't ever given her a decent answer.

She took a breath and ran down the stairs, greeting Richard at the bottom with a smile.

He took in her pale face and dark ringed eyes. "You Ok?"

"I'm fine," she lied, "We better get going,"

In the car she was silent, lost in thought, her hand wrapped around the strange card in her coat pocket. When the limo pulled up at the grand, Victorian built Gotham Private College and they were walking side by side into the building, Libby grabbed Richard's arm and pulled him away from the prying eyes of the driver.

"Where are we going?" he asked but she didn't answer. She took his hand and they walked along the leafy path, past other students, who always greeted Richard and not her. It was a beautiful college, grand in history and artichectually; it loomed over them, its steeples reaching to touch the clouds. They walked under the clock tower and through the courtyard and didn't stop till they reached the library.

It was early and the Library was empty apart from the staff who manned it. Libby found a table near the log fire near the end of the building where students came to study, gossip and drink coffee. She flung herself into a leather chair and Richard eyed her warily.

"What's going on Lib? You're being more stoic than normal," he sat in the chair opposite her. Libby took out the card and handed it to him. She watched his face carefully as he read it. He looked up and met her eyes.

"You got this today?" he asked.

She nodded. "Alfred brought it up with my other cards from all my non existent friends,"

"What does the number mean?"

"I have no idea! Who is 'J'?"

"You're asking me? This is….creepy. The writing, it's like a child's,"

"Sniff the card, Rich. It smells old, like it's been locked up in a cupboard for years. Who would have sent it?"

Richard turned the card over in his hands. He often worried that Libby invented things to keep herself amused, like last night, but this was different.

"I think the number….I don't know…"

Libby stared at him crossly. "Say it!"

He shut the card and looked across at her. "I was going to say it reminds me of the number that I had to use to get into my mom's safety deposit box after she died. She only left a few valuables in it but she wanted me to have them. I remember the number started with a letter and then had six numbers like this,"

Libby's eyes widened. "You think someone left me something in a deposit box?"

Richard held up his hands. "Whoa Lib! I didn't say that!"

She leapt to her feet. "We could skip class and go to the Gotham Bank?"

Richard stood also and took hold of her arms. "What's going on here Libby? Why are you so desperate to prove that your life is one big secret?"

He was holding her arms too tightly to escape and somehow she found it difficult to pull away from his gaze? A lump formed in her throat and she snatched the card back from him.

"Because it's _true_!" she hissed, tears welling up. She hated crying, especially in front of Richard. "I do feel like I don't belong….I _never_ have belonged. I don't think….I don't think…"

She was hardly able to say the words that were bubbling up in her throat. She prepared herself for his shocked response.

"I don't think that Bruce is my father," she whispered hanging her head.

There. She had finally said it out loud. Years of denial and guilt washed over her and she hung her head in shame. She waited for his angry rebuke but when she lifted her head she found he was gazing down at her sadly.

"I don't care that you think I'm insane!" she shot at him, wiping her eyes frantically, "And I'm not going to explain how I know, but I _know_! I don't care if you don't believe me,"

"You don't have to explain anything to me," Richard whispered, "Because I believe you,"

Libby's head snapped up. She stared at his lovely, kind face and didn't think she could love anyone more than him at this moment. "You do?"

"I've talked myself out of it hundreds of times….after all lack of family resemblances don't mean anything. But it's not just that. It's the way he looks at you sometimes,"

Libby's blue eyes widened. "You noticed that! Why didn't you ever say anything to me?"

Richard laughed. "How could I? I love Bruce like he was own father. He's family. And I believe he loves _you,_ more than you know. But there was always something there, something not right. A connection….I don't know,"

Libby threw her arms around his neck, pressing her wet face into his shirt front.

"Richard do you know how much this means to me? I thought I was going insane. All these years, it never felt right. I've caught that look in his eye so many times…like I didn't belong. Like he was looking at someone else,"

There was a brief moment of silence before she continued.

"You know he never talks about my mother. He never says I look like her, even though I do. He never says I'm like her, or like him. It's like when he looks at me sometimes…I remind him of someone else and he can't bear to see it. But I can't help it; I can't help who I am. But I don't _know_ who I am!"

"And you think this 'J' does?"

Libby let her shoulders slump. "I don't know anymore,"

Richard pried the card back out of her hands. "So what are we going to do?"

"I want to know the truth," she whispered, "I want to know who I am,"

Richard gritted his teeth. He hated breaking the rules. He hated causing trouble. And he would especially hate lying to Bruce. But he loved Liberty and at the moment, seeing her this way was breaking his heart.

He took her hand in his. "Let's go and find out then,"

**a/n Also I hope everyone is watching the jokerblogs on youtube! Find patient 4479!**


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